


Playing the System

by shotboxer



Series: Odds In 'Verse [2]
Category: Primeval
Genre: AU, Certain people didn't die, Other, Prompt Fic, Spanking, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotboxer/pseuds/shotboxer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ARC team is slowly adjusting to being a family post Multi-Universe Permian anomaly.  Then they have one hell of a half week, there is an anomaly at an airport, a thirteen-tonne predator and a baggage truck.  The adjustment just got moved into high gear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Math

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whisper91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper91/gifts), [devilburns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilburns/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval, its characters or anything else associated with it. I am making no money from this.
> 
> Please Note: In real life I only advocate spanking practiced between consenting adults. In fiction I advocate any and all spanking. This is a work of fiction and it contains spanking. Don't like, don't read.
> 
> Any mistakes in British English, dinosaur descriptions or other inconsistencies are entirely my own. This fic was written to entertain, not to be an accurate reflection of ‘the real world’. There may be inaccuracies in geography, culture, science or medicine ahead. You have been warned.
> 
> Spoilers: Major plots points from Seasons 1 to 3 mentioned. The G-rex incident is taken, with a few slight changes, from Season 3 Episode 4.
> 
> This is for Whisper91 and devilburns, who both asked for something around the G-rex incident. Hopefully this fits the bill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cutter's team has their first family meeting.

The core team of the ARC sat around Nick Cutter’s kitchen table.  Just over a week ago, an anomaly leading to the Permian had proven to also be connected to five alternate universes, throwing their thinking about how the anomalies worked up in the air and juggling it.  The revelations gleaned from the five other versions of Connor that made their way into the Permian that day had played similarly merry havoc with the relationships between the members of the team.  That second realignment had made them a family.  One with some unusual elements, to which they were all still adjusting.  At the moment, ‘adjusting’ meant ‘drinking tea while deciding on the rules.’  Or, as Becker had put it, “If I’m going to be smacked for something, I want to know what it is beforehand, so I can avoid it like the plague.”  The first thing they’d all agreed on was that this discussion required beer.  Or tea.  On second thought, alcohol and this sort of thing didn’t seem like a good combination.  So definitely tea;  And biscuits;  Lots and lots of biscuits. 

Abby smirked at the four men seated around the table, “Given that all of you have problems with authority, I’m surprised you’re so into this.”

“I’d hardly call a military career ‘having problems with authority,’” Becker said dryly.  He reached over and snatched a handful of Hob Nobs from in front of Nick, who looked like he was set to horde every single one of them if they weren’t careful.  They knew Connor had an inveterate sweet tooth.  Nick’s alimentary vices apparently ran in much narrower channels.  And he was much less inclined to share his treats.  Becker exchanged an eye roll with Stephen as Cutter growled at him. 

Stephen huffed right back at his friend, “We got extra so you could have your own packet and there’d still be enough for everyone else.  Stop hording the bloody things and drink your tea.”    

Abby moved the plate with the rest of the biscuits farther away from Nick into the center of the table.  She waved Becker’s comment away with one hand, “Please.  You just save it for the ones who throw their weight around.  And if you were all that ‘by the book’ there’s no way you’d be able to work with the rest of us.”

Becker leaned back with folded arms and declined to reply.  A small smile danced briefly across his face.

Stephen sat forward, “Why don’t we just get started.  Connor, you’re getting all of this down?”

“Yep.  Once we’ve got it all, I’ll print it out and we can all sign it.”

Cutter bridled, “No one said anything about signing something.” 

“If we sign, no one can say later on that they didn’t know they weren’t supposed to do something.  We’re going to have enough arguments about who’s in trouble for what without having a whole other set of arguments about what counts as ‘trouble’ in the first place.”  Stephen wondered when he’s become the voice of reason in this discussion. 

Connor raised his fingers over the keyboard of his laptop, “Maybe start with the obvious ones?”

Abby nodded emphatically, “No doing stupid, dangerous things.”  She glared at Connor as she said it.

Becker jumped in before Connor could, “Our job is to do dangerous things.”

Cutter harrumphed, “Yes, alright.  ‘No doing dangerous things when there’s an alternative,’ then.  And no risking your life unless there’s no other choice.”

Stephen returned Nick’s stare straight on.  “Agreed.”

Passing the laptop to Abby, Connor got up to make more tea.  They were going to need it. 

As it turned out, the process of drawing up the ‘family rules’ was not as protracted as it easily could have been.  Keeping the rules from being eviscerated under a ton of caveats had taken some work though.  Becker sardonically insisted that “unless Cutter thinks you’re wrong” ought to be part of every rule.  They kept the joke going and Nick joined in with a smirk once he’d gotten his initial pro forma grumbling out of the way.  At the end of an hour and three rounds of tea, and who knew how many biscuits, Connor read off what they had.

“Right, even _if_ Cutter thinks you’re wrong, here’s the list.  One, ‘no risking your life if there’s an alternative.’  Two, ‘no doing dangerous things without backup.’  Well, unless backup isn’t available ‘cause of circumstances’.”

Abby broke in, “I think we can assume that ‘unless there are extenuating circumstances’ is a given for all of this, Connor.”

“Yeah, okay.  Three, ‘data is not worth risk to yourself or others.’ Unless Cutter says so.”

“No, not even then.” Nick sighed, “Yes, I am occasionally wrong. . . And capable of admitting it.  I said _occasionally_ , Stephen Hart.”

“No comment.  Connor?”

“Four, ‘no lying about things involving the rules, your or others’ welfare.’  Exceptions are surprises, classified information, protecting someone’s privacy, and if it’s necessary to protect you or someone else.

“Five, ‘no making it so we can’t contact you on purpose.’  Six, ‘no invading anyone's privacy using computers.’  I still think that one doesn’t need to be there, I wouldn’t . . .”

“That one stays.”

“Six stays.”

“Sorry Connor.”

“At least no one’s voting me off the island.  Seven, ‘no insults, saying nasty things or taking your feelings out on other people’.”

“That’s a bit obvious.”

“So is ‘no doing dangerous things.’  Give it up already, Nick.”

Nick inclined his head and waved at Connor to proceed.

“Eight, ‘absolutely no throwing someone’s past transgressions in their face or using them against them, especially in front of an audience.’ Kinda depressing that’s even got to be in there.”

Nick was beginning to feel ashamed that everyone kept glancing at him.

“Nine, ‘look after yourself as much as possible.’  Still say that and ten could be one rule.  Ten, ‘no hiding injuries or illness.’  Eleven, ‘always observe the rules around firearms, safety protocol and safety equipment.’  That one’s kinda a no-brainer.”

“Less commentary, more reading.”

“Touchy.”

“ _Connor_.”

“Alright, don’t get worked up.  Twelve, ‘you have to listen to the expert in their area.’  So like no ignoring Abby when she says not to approach a creature upwind.  Thirteen, ‘you have to listen to the person in charge in the field.  If there's a problem, get help from someone else.  You only get to take unilateral action on your own after you’ve tried everything else.’  And, last but not least . . . fourteen, ‘if you think someone might have a problem with what you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it.’” 

Cutter nodded in satisfaction, “That’s it then.  Unless anyone can think of anything else?”  The other four team members shook their heads.  “Print it out.  Does everyone have a pen?”  Abby got up to get extra writing implements and bring the rules back from the printer.  Faces grave, Abigail Maitland, Connor Temple, Stephen Hart, Hilary Becker and Nicholas Cutter passed the paper around the table.  They each signed their name at the bottom, formally committing themselves to the family rules. 

Becker made sure the first part of his signature was especially illegible.  There was a reason he insisted people call him ‘Becker.’  “You do know that we all know what your first name is, right?  Stephen got it out of Lester’s secretary on a dare from one of the guys in the lab,” Abby informed him.

“I was drunk.”

“Not when you got it out of the secretary you weren’t.”  Stephen glared at Abby.  He resolutely did not look at Becker. 

“Just so long as none of you use it.  And remember that turnabout is fair play. . . Stevie.”  Becker smirked harder at Stephen’s glare.

“If we’re doing nicknames. . .”

“We’re not.”  Cutter put an end to it before Connor could get started.

Connor was getting used to brusque denials.  “. . . We’ve got to call him something.  Your middle name is James, so. . . Jamie? Jay? What’s wrong with Jay?”

“It’s an initial, not a name.”

“Uh, actually it is a name . . . okay, okay, Jay is out.  Anything short for Hilary is out. . .”

“I appreciate that Connor Duncan.”

“Sure, no problem.  Oh!  I know. . .”

“Connor, just leave it.” Stephen flicked his hand at Nick.  Shutting Connor down point blank would only make him more determined at this point.

“Seriously, Connor. . .”  Abby touched his arm.

“. . . what about Becks?”  Everyone around the table shared the proverbial blink.

“That’s actually okay.  Call me Becks all you want.  But it’s for family only, got it?”  ‘Becks’ clapped Connor on the shoulder with a smile.

“Sure.  As long as you don’t mind being called after a lager.”

Nick grinned approvingly at Connor.  “You’re one to talk Mister Drunken Dare.”

Abby chimed in, “I like Stevie; it’s got a nice sound to it.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed, “Says the person named after a nunnery.”  Abby squawked.  Her eyes narrowed in turn as she leaned forward.  Cutter opened his mouth.

“Settle down you lot.” Becker waved his hand quellingly, earning him a glare from all four of his family members.  “This ‘lager’ is in good company.” He pointed to Connor, “We’ve got a trickster; a nunnery,” he gestured to Abby; “Stealing and jail,” Nick; “and the King of Thieves,” Stephen.  Abby looked puzzled.

Connor snorted. “Stevie Nicks and King Stephen.  Good one Becks.”  He grinned when Becker returned his high five, eliciting chuckles from the other three around the table. 

Nick stood up, “Speaking of, I could go for a pint.  Who wants to join me?”  Any replies were cut off by five mobile phones going off in rapid succession.  The anomalies didn’t care if they were thirsty.


	2. Sod's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hart's corollary: Everything that can go wrong, will. . . and family will always find out about it.

It had been a month since their first ‘family meeting’ and no one had mentioned the rules once, or the consequences for breaking them.  There had been more hugging.  Any other efforts at adjusting to the new team-family structure had taken a back seat to day- to- day ARC-style chaos.  Especially lately.   It had been one hell of a week.  And it was only halfway over. 

There had been four anomaly alerts in the past two days.  Two on Monday and two on Tuesday.  During the first shout on Monday, Nick had gotten knocked into a creek by a Hypsilophodon that had zagged when they all expected it to zig.  He’d smashed his side against a protruding rock and inhaled water thanks to the resultant involuntary yell of pain.  Because of the possibility of lung infection, their team leader had been in the hospital for the past two days for observation and monitoring.  Nick was on schedule to be released Wednesday night, but in the meantime they had been down one in the field.

The third alert happened in the early hours of Tuesday morning, in deepest Cornwall, followed by the fourth at mid-afternoon in the Cambridgeshire Fens.  They’d had to hear about the one in the Fens thanks to a tip-off from a local news agency, because the ADD had gone down just as they were finishing up in Cornwall.  Some poor sap from Facilities had tripped over the worst possible cable in the server room and the Anomaly Detection Device had shorted out. 

To top off their embarrassment of riches, it was budget time.  Which meant that James Lester was at his most cutting and irascible, and intent on making sure everyone at the ARC was as busy as possible.  Busy people had no time to stop and speak with a ‘concerned government employee’ sent to ‘evaluate their needs,’ therefore they couldn’t be caught lying to escape unwanted scrutiny.  Busy people looked impressive and went much further to justifying a larger budget.    

The week before, Connor had started working on the prototype for a machine he claimed would allow them to lock anomalies.  On Monday morning, their geek had made the mistake of burbling about it to a seemingly fascinated ‘good friend of Mr. Lester.’  The man had subsequently shown an official interest in the project.  Which meant that the team had returned to the ARC after Nick had taken his ill-fated spill to find that Lester was getting pestered for updates on “Mr. Temple’s crucially important project.”  The head of the ARC was only too happy to pass on the outside pressure to Connor himself. 

On Tuesday Becker had been called away to a day of meetings at Special Forces Command.  The ADD was offline, and Connor was still being harassed about the Locking Device.  With Cutter still in hospital, they were now down two members of the core team and stretched incredibly thin.  No one more so than Connor, who was the only person who could fix the damaged ADD.  He’d gone out on all four anomaly alerts, spent every spare moment in between call-outs working on the locking device, _and_ had been working non-stop to fix the ADD for the past eighteen hours.  All of which meant that he had been without more than a couple hours’ sleep since Sunday night.  

It was now 10am on Wednesday.  Everyone was praying for a respite on the anomaly front.  If Connor hadn’t fixed the ADD by the time Stephen and Becker got back from updating Nick at the hospital, there was going to be a full-scale intervention so that Connor could get some rest.  ADD or no ADD.  If Lester hadn’t already seen sense and sent him home.      

And then someone had called the hospital with a bomb threat.  Stephen had just left the building when the call came in, so he missed being trapped inside with Becker when an emergency lockdown was instituted.  He did get stuck in the traffic caused by the detours around the roadblocks created by the lockdown.  He got the call that Connor had fixed the ADD and they had yet another anomaly to deal with while sitting in that traffic, and had to tell Lester that he wasn’t going to be there to respond with his team any time soon.  With Nick, Becker and Stephen all unavailable, Lester put Jenny in temporary charge of the team and sent her off with Connor and Abby to tackle whatever unknown awaited them at the anomaly site this time.  Which left Stephen sitting and worrying and completely impotent to do anything about it except glare balefully at the cars in front of him and plot the quickest possible route to the airport where the anomaly had opened.     

Two nerve-wracking hours later, Stephen was careering down the motorway, determined to reach his team as quickly as semi-legally possible.  The team’s wilderness tracking expert flew past the gates to the airport and screeched to a halt.  He was out of the HiLux and retrieving his rifle from the back in less than a minute, loading himself down with a semi-automatic and plenty of ammunition as well.  He was going to be prepared for anything.  It wasn’t that he thought that Connor, Abby and Jenny couldn’t handle themselves.  And he knew that Lester would never send them out without a Special Forces escort as backup.  But he also knew intimately the dangers inherent in facing off with creatures from the past.  Any time he couldn’t be there to back up his family personally was a time that he was going to be climbing the proverbial walls.

Stephen sprinted down the roadway toward the open tarmac.  He hadn’t bothered calling for an update.  If the team needed more resources they would call for them.  Phoning for an update would just have been a distraction that no one needed.  It also meant that he had no idea what he would find up ahead.  He rounded a bend and spotted Connor and Abby straight in front of him, huddled close together in an apparent hushed conversation.  Jenny was standing fifty meters or so beyond them, mobile to her ear.  His friends’ eyes widened as he charged up to them and skidded to a stop hard enough to make the soles of his shoes squeak.  Stephen took a deep breath, “Did I miss the party?”

Abby nodded, “Yeah, we just finished up.  Jenny said you got stuck in traffic and Becker got stuck at the hospital.”

“Someone called in an anonymous threat to security.  They locked the whole place down just in case. It was just a hoax though.  Cutter and Becker are fine.  Climbing the walls, but fine,” he assured.  For a second there, Abby and Connor had looked the way Stephen had felt until just now.  Stephen took in the two people he’d adopted as younger siblings.  They looked terrible.  Connor was a pasty white and looked about ready to drop.  Abby’s color was normal but she was obviously equally as exhausted.  “You’re both okay?” Stephen needed to know. 

“Connor swayed a bit as he waved his hand, “Yeah.  We’re fine.  It all went off without a hitch.”  Seeing Stephen’s look of disbelief, “And I’m about ready to lie down and sleep right here.”

“Me too,” Abby got out around a yawn.  “Jenny said she’d deal with Lester so we could go home and rest.”

 _Bloody finally_ , Stephen thought.  “I’ll help distract him.  Let me drive you both home first.”

Connor shook his head, “Thanks, but I left my laptop back at the ARC, and Jenny said she’d drive us.”

“You could go ahead of us and make sure Lester is occupied?” Abby looked hopeful. 

“Okay.  If you’re both sure you’ll make it home without falling over?”

“Don’t worry, we’re exhausted, but I think we can manage that.  Thanks though.”

Jenny came to join them, “Don’t worry Stephen, I’ll make sure they get off alright.  You give Lester your update on Nick and Becker and I’ll come relieve you as soon as I can.”

His need to _do_ something after hours of inutile immobility overrode Stephen’s desire to look after his friends.  They were in Jenny’s capable hands.  “I’ll see you back at the ARC then.  And call to let Nick and Becker know everyone’s fine.  If I don’t they’ll be ringing you any second now,” he smirked. 

“Lester said he already gave them the news.  Apparently they rang him for an update directly as soon as they were allowed access to an outside line.  He seemed quite put out.  Apparently he had to use some tact for once.”

Abby laughed, “How very annoying for him.”

Stephen joined in the chuckling, and then watched as Jenny, Connor and Abby clambered into one of the ARC SUVs and drove off. 

Back at the ARC, Stephen informed Lester of the little he had to report, commiserated with the man on the nuisance that was one bed-bound Scottish evolutionary zoologist, and was pleasantly surprised when Lester beat him to the punch in asserting Abby and Connor’s need for a break.  “As much of a novelty as it would be, I do not need to oversee a facility staffed by the walking dead,” was how he put it.  Taking his leave, Stephen headed toward the underground parking garage.  The soldiers would likely appreciate some help unloading their equipment. 

He spent a soothing few hours in the armory cleaning the guns and doing an inventory, noting that they were surprisingly low on ammunition and alerting the duty sergeant so that more could be ordered.  When he asked where else he could help take some of the work off their plate, the soldiers happily directed him to the security office.  The airport had had a large number of CCTV cameras, generating a huge volume of confiscated footage that needed to be reviewed.  Settling down at one of the audio-visual stations, Stephen pulled up the views from several different cameras on individual screens and sat back.  He’d fast forward through the action first, then go back and work through the parts that showed the most problematic (read: classified) bits. 

Stephen watched with surprise as the speeding figure of Connor unpacked and set up his Locking Device prototype in triple time.  He hadn’t realized it was ready to be tested.  He was looking at the other screens when there was a bright flash in the corner of his eye.  It looked like Connor was shaking his hand. . .  No, Connor was still fiddling with the machine. He must have imagined it.  Then the largest tyrannosaur Stephen had ever seen lumbered out of the anomaly and promptly escaped the hangar onto the tarmac, straight toward an airplane being unloaded.  Stephen bolted upright, eyes fixed on the scuttling figures in the video.  Jenny and most of the soldiers left the hanger in pursuit of what could only be a Giganotosaurus.  T-rex’s meaner, faster, bigger cousin.  Stephen’s eyes moved from screen to screen, transfixed.  He watched Jenny and the soldiers make it to the airplane and into the cargo hold with the baggage handlers just as the G-rex reached their car and head-butted it.  The huge predator pulled back momentarily, allowing four soldiers to rush back out of the hold and into the SUV.  Presumably they were planning to use the vehicle to distract the tyrannosaur away from the tasty snacks inside the plane.  Nothing happened.  The engine must have stalled. 

Stephen was so riveted watching the MACOs lay down covering fire so the men in the SUV could scramble back to the plane, that he almost missed the flash of light from the screen displaying the inside of the hangar.  He snapped his gaze over and rewound the footage, smiling with pride as a beam shot out of Connor’s machine, locking the anomaly into a perfect, contained sphere.  His little brother had gotten it to work!  He watched as Connor and Abby high-fived.  Connor winced and clutched his hand.  Which was missing its usual fingerless glove. . .   _Had something happened that he’d missed?_  

Connor pulled out his phone and he and Abby jumped into the Mini Cooper, racing out onto the runway and straight for the G-rex terrorizing the plane.  Stephen clenched his teeth.  He’d seen them all, alive and in one piece.  _It was going to be fine_.  The Mini skidded to a stop and Abby scrambled out, tossing ammunition up to the soldiers in the plane.  She was saying something to Jenny, Connor was right behind her . . .  And Connor turned on his heel, ran past the Mini and jumped into a baggage truck with a train of carts sitting idle nearby.  And drove it out onto the open runway, with the G-rex in hot pursuit.  In a vehicle that couldn’t go more than thirty miles per hour.  Stephen stopped breathing. 

The G-rex lowered its massive head and slammed the baggage cart at the end of the train aside.  Opening its mouth in a silent roar, it head butted the next cart aside, and the next.  There were no carts left.  Only the truck with Connor in the driver’s seat.  Stephen felt ill.  He was vaguely aware he was shaking.  Connor was fine.  He _knew_ Connor was fine.  He’d seen him.  Where were the soldiers?  Connor had taken a gun with him when he’s hopped into the truck, why wasn’t he using it?  The truck jerked to a halt.  The G-rex, directly behind it and unable to stop in time, tripped over the cabin with Connor inside and collapsed onto its side on the asphalt.  _Stay down, stay down, please stay down._  

Connor got out of the truck, without his gun.  His kid brother turned back toward the plane, wobbled a few weaving steps, and collapsed onto the ground.  _They said they were fine.  Connor was not fine.  Connor had a head injury and he was right in the path of a ravenous predator_.  The predator lumbered to its feet, leaned down and brought its huge muzzle within a foot of the supine Connor.  The Giganotosaurus opened its mouth.  Its teeth were mere inches from Connor’s face. 

There was a whirring blur in the corner of the screen.  A news helicopter dove into the shot, buzzing around the Giganotosaurus’ head and harrying it away from its prey.  As the monster chased the ‘copter back toward the hangar, the Mini Cooper skidded up.  One of the soldiers yanked Connor into the back and the car sped off in pursuit, the soldiers firing at the G-rex’s retreating heels all the way.  Somehow, the Mini got ahead of the beast and arrived first at the hangar.  _Oh god, the anomaly was locked_.  Connor threw himself out of the car, fetched up against the Locking Device and frantically flipped switches as the ‘copter swooped into the hangar, followed by the G-rex.  Connor hit the button, a beam shot out, and the anomaly unlocked just as the helicopter reached it.  To his eternal credit, the pilot didn’t slow down for a second, flying straight into the anomaly and leading the G-rex back to its own time.  Jenny and the soldiers were having some sort of heated exchange as Connor reset the Device.  And waited.  No one moved on the screen.  Connor raised his hand to hit the button.  There was an ugly red burn on his palm.  _That looked like an electric_ _al burn_.  Abby grabbed his arm as the soldiers stepped forward and renewed their aim on the anomaly.  The helicopter burst back through into the hanger, barely clearing the anomaly before Connor slammed his hand down and the anomaly locked once more.

 Stephen ignored the images still running on the screen.  He couldn’t believe it.  _They had lied to his face_.  Connor had gotten burned, concussed to the point of disorientation, and almost eaten.  By a Giganotosaurus.  Because he hadn’t stopped to confer with his team, had bypassed the working **car** he’d just gotten out of, and instead taken a clunky, slow, hard to maneuver **baggage truck** to lure the G-rex away. _Connor had looked him straight in the eyes and said that things had gone off without a hitch_. Stephen Hart was livid.  _He was going to skin the pair of them alive_. . .  _Just as soon as he dragged Connor to get proper medical attention_.  _And then he was going to hug them both to death. With extreme prejudice_.  _And resurrect them so he could kill them again._

Stephen shoved to his feet and marched out of the security office, curtly informing the man on the desk that he was leaving and someone else was going to have to finish going over the CCTV footage.  He was half way to the locker room when he came to an abrupt halt, made a ninety degree turn and charged down the hall toward the infirmary.  The nurse on duty didn’t seem surprised to see him.  She informed Stephen that other than a burn on his hand, a nasty cut on the back of his head, a terrible headache and a case of exhaustion and some nutrient deficiencies, Connor was fine.  Of course, they’d run a full battery of tests to be sure.  You could never be too careful when it came to blows to the head, or electric shocks.  They’d done a CT scan to check for physical signs of brain injury and a standard neurological exam to evaluate his brother for other indicators of brain damage.  Oh, and because Connor had been _electrocuted_ by the Locking Device, they had ordered blood and urine panels to check for muscle, liver and kidney damage.  The doctor on duty had released Connor into Abby’s care, with instructions to wake him periodically to check for signs of deterioration.  Along with an advisory to keep in mind that Connor also needed as much sleep as he could get in order to help him heal. 

The nurse was relieved to learn that Stephen would be going to help Abby look after Connor.  She had been concerned that Abby’s own case of exhaustion would prevent her from doing the necessary periodic checks on her brother.  Taking the literature on treatment post-concussion and electric shock offered, Stephen resumed his path to the locker room.  He needed to calm down and think.  The first order of business was to look after his siblings.  And call Nick and Becker to fill them in.  And then decide how best to deal with his rule-breaking sister and brother.  Because as soon as he had assured himself, with his own eyes and hands, that they were both out of danger and on the mend, Connor and Abby were going to _get it_.

Back at their flat, Abby and Connor were slumped on the couch.  They needed to get up in a minute and go to bed.  Abby ought to set an alarm so she could get up and check on Connor in a few hours.  They’d opted to drive themselves back to the flat rather than waiting for Jenny.  They had each had a Lucozade in the infirmary to balance their electrolytes, and Abby had found a couple protein bars in the glove box on the drive home, so they didn’t need to eat right away.  Rex dropped onto the back of the couch.  Abby’s pet prehistoric flying lizard chirped loudly in their ears.  The pair jerked apart from where they’d fallen against each other.  “Okay, okay we’re going to bed.”

“Thanks, mate.  My head hurts enough already, don’t need a sore neck from sleeping on the couch as well.”  Abby followed the tottering Connor to his room and watched from the doorway as he stripped down to his boxers and flopped into bed.  She shuffled forward to tug the edge of the sheet and the duvet out from under him and make sure he was covered up properly.  As she was changing groggily into her pajamas, Abby thought she heard a rap on the door.  No, there was no second knock.  That couldn’t be the door opening.  Stephen was the only one with a key who wasn’t still stuck at the hospital, and he was back at the ARC.  The self-proclaimed ‘lizard girl’ slid into bed as her own consciousness fell away.  _That did sound like Stephen’s voice in the kitchen though_. . . .

  



	3. Delayed Outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fine art of caring for that most aggravating creature, the wayward sibling.

Abby jerked awake to the blaring of her alarm.  She reached out to shut it off.  Her hand met with the larger one that was already resting on top of the OFF button.  “Stephen?  What time’s it?”

“Nine at night.  I let you sleep.  I’ve checked on Connor twice.  He’s fine.  You need to get up and come eat something.”  Her older brother turned and walked out of the room.  _This is not good_.

When Abby stepped into the kitchen wrapped in her robe, Connor was already seated at the table in his dressing gown.  There was a bowl of soup and what looked like a ham sandwich in front of him.  They shared a wide-eyed look.  Connor opened his mouth, glanced at the stiff, stony-faced Stephen and cleared his throat instead.  Stephen nodded his head at the seat next to Connor, “Abby.  Sit.  Eat.” 

Abby didn’t do orders.  Normally, she was one to take the bull by the horns, but she was tired.  And really hungry now that she could smell the hot food.  Abby sat and ate.  Stephen worked on his own toast and tea as he watched them eat.  He got up and refilled their water glasses twice.  When they were finished, Abby and Connor rose to take their dishes to the sink.  Connor reached to turn on the tap.  “Leave them.   I want to talk to you two in the lounge.”  Stephen pointedly waited for both of them to go past him before following them out of the kitchen and to the sofa in front of the TV. 

Connor and Abby shifted nervously.  Stephen was often a man of few words, but this taciturn, closed off, angry man. . . He was new.  And neither of them knew how to deal with him.  They tensed when Stephen approached.  Connor startled hard as Stephen’s arms came around him and pulled him up off the couch into a bear hug.  His brother held on for several minutes.  Stephen ended the embrace by resting his head on top of Connor’s before letting him go with a final, gasp-inducing squeeze.  Stephen stepped over and enveloped Abby in a hug that was equally prolonged and tenacious.  Once he released her, he stepped back and stood looking down at the pair on the couch.  His face was thunderous.  “You told me you were fine.” 

“We didn’t want to worry you.  Everyone’s been so busy lately, and Cutter has been on edge because he can’t go back to work yet.”

Connor backed her up, “I was fine, really.  It was just a bump on the head.  Like I told Jenny, it probably knocked some sense into me.”  His teasing smile was not returned.  “We didn’t want to worry you, Stephen.  That’s all.”

“The entire point of being part of a family is that we worry about each other, Connor.  And I should be able to trust you to tell me when something goes wrong.”  Stephen put his hands on his hips, “Do either of you realize just how furious I am with you right now?”

Connor blanched, “I guess not.  How’d you find out?”

“I helped security go over the CCTV footage we confiscated.”

“Oh.  It didn’t look good, did it?”

“Connor, I watched you get electrocuted, chased by a Giganotosaurus, collapse from a head injury and almost get eaten.  ‘It didn’t look good’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”  Stephen’s glare swung to Abby, “And then I found out that my kid sister and brother deliberately lied to my face.”

Abby hunched her shoulders, “We meant well makes no difference, does it?”

“Less than zero.”

Connor needed to know, “Um, so what happens now?”

Stephen sighed.  Now they were just being intentionally dense, “I punish you.”

Abby frowned, “Look, Stephen . . . I . . . I thought maybe that part wouldn’t apply?”

Connor snorted, “You mean you figured no one would actually smack you because you’re a girl.”

“No!  I . . . okay, fine.  Maybe I did.”

Stephen shook his head, “You agreed the same as the rest of us, Abby.  We assumed we could trust your word.”

“You can!  I meant it when I said yes.  I just . . . I don’t know how this is going to work.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to hear any details,” Connor muttered.

Stephen thawed the tiniest bit.  “Believe me, I know this is hard.  But I’m not letting you get away with it just because you don’t want me to punish you.”

Abby blushed and lowered her eyes.  There really wasn’t anything to say to that.  “So . . .”

“So Connor is going back to bed.”  Stephen held up his hand, “You need the rest.  And I’m not going to punish you until I’m sure there’s no damage from your concussion.  You make it through to tomorrow morning with no new symptoms and we’ll deal with things then.  Abby, I’ll deal with you as soon as Connor is asleep.”

Connor got up, “Can’t say I like the idea of waiting.  Don’t want it hanging over me, but I don’t have a choice, do I?” He nodded off of Stephen’s head shake, “Guess I’m off to bed, then.”  In response to Abby’s frantic “Wait! _Connor_!” he turned back, “We both know we deserve it, Abby.  We shouldn’t have lied.  Just get it over with, okay?”

Abby slumped, “Okay.  Sorry, Conn.”

“No worries, Sis.  If it helps, I think I’m in way more trouble than you are.”

Stephen stood, “Yes, you are.  But you’re going to bed now.”  He placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder and steered them back toward the bedrooms.

“What, you going to tuck me in?”

“Yes. “

“Oh.  Okay.”

 

Abby sat in silence and waited for Stephen to return and tried not to think about anything at all.  Her adopted brother sat down next to her.  She forced herself to look him in the face.  “I’m sorry.  We should have just told you what happened.  I don’t know why I suggested it.  It’s not like I wasn’t mad at Connor.”  She swallowed and dragged the next words out of the back of her throat, “Are you going to spank me?”

Stephen nodded, “Yes.  Not only did you lie to my face, you lied about a serious injury that I had a right to know about, and by extension about Connor risking his life.  I’ve got to be able to trust you to be honest with me, Abby.  I’m going to have trouble doing that for a while now. “

Abby blinked away tears, “I . . . I’m really sorry.  I’m sorry you can’t trust me anymore.”

Stephen squeezed her hand, “I didn’t say that.  I still trust you.  But I’m going to be double checking the things you tell me for a bit.” 

Abby squeezed back, “What’s going to happen now?  I . . . what, how are you going to do it?”

Stephen had thought a lot about this.  He had informed Becker and Nick of his plans for both miscreants when he’d called them to let them know what had happened at the airport.  Neither man had had any objections.  “I’m going to call Nick and Becker.  They know what happened and that the two of you lied about it and tried to hide things.  They both have things they want to say to you about that.  After you talk to them, I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap.  You’re going to sit with the soap in your mouth for fifteen minutes and think about why we have a rule that we don’t lie to each other.  Then I’m going to put you over my knee and smack you.  On your bare bottom.  You have a choice: you can put a thong on under your shorts or I can pull them into your crack to make one, or I can take them right down.” 

Abby was white.  This was horrible and they hadn’t even gotten to the smacking or the soap part yet.  She felt like she should have had more respect for Connor for going through this.  Stephen stood and retrieved his mobile from the kitchen counter.  He dialed, “Hi, Nick.  Abby’s here.  I’m giving her the phone.”

Abby brought the phone reluctantly to her ear, “Hi . . .”  What followed was a scolding that made Abby cringe, sniffle and hope she never heard that angry, disappointed tone in Nick’s voice ever again.  Once Nick had finished, Abby whispered, “Yes, Nick.  I will.  I’m sorry,” and passed the phone back to Stephen.  Stephen sat down beside her on the couch and dialed again, greeted Becker and passed the phone back to Abby.  Becker’s take on her actions elicited a similar response.  This time, Abby returned Stephen’s mobile after promising “Yes, I know.  I should never have lied.  And I know I deserve it.  I promise I’ll try to do better.”  Stephen rung off and sat beside Abby, waiting for her breathing to even back out.  Abby took a shaky breath and tentatively raised her eyes to meet his.  Stephen stood and led them into the kitchen, motioning her into a chair.  “Stay there and think about what Nick and Becker said to you.  I’ll be right back.”

Abby’s eyes widened when she saw what Stephen was carrying when he came back into the kitchen.  Her big brother had a towel, a bowl full of water, and a fresh bar of soap.  Stephen set the things on the table and sat in the chair next to her.  “Abigail Sarah Maitland.”  Abby squirmed.  “You lied to my face.  On purpose.  You knew we don’t lie to each other but you still went ahead and told me a huge lie today.  We have a dangerous job and we have to be able to trust you to tell us what happens when we’re not there.  You broke my trust in you today.  I’m hurt you lied to me and I’m very disappointed in you.” 

Stephen draped the towel over the edge of the table and swished the soap in the water bowl, taking his time in working up a good lather.  “Open your mouth and lean over the bowl.”  Tears running down her face, Abby obeyed.  Taking her chin firmly in one hand, Stephen proceeded to work the soap into every corner of her mouth, scrubbing it across all the available surfaces.  Abby whimpered and shuddered in distress, her hands opening and closing on the table.  “Keep that in your mouth and stand up.”  Stephen picked up her chair with one hand and guided Abby over to the corner nearest the door with the other.  He set the chair facing the corner and pushed his trembling sister into it.  “I don’t want you distracted by anything.  Sit there and think about why you don’t lie to me.  Fifteen minutes.”  Stephen set the timer on his phone and turned and left his little sister alone. 

Stephen had seriously underestimated how hard this was going to be.  He felt drained already, and they’d just started.  He had agreed to their rules alongside the others.  He had signed his name.  He had known that he was committing himself to be both punisher and punished as circumstances dictated.  He had made the choice as an adult, with full knowledge of what he was doing.  Abby had done the same.  He respected her decision and he respected her for following through with it.  He was proud to be the person she was trusting to do this with her.  None of that kept any of this from sucking even the tiniest bit less.  Stephen stood across the room and watched Abby’s shoulders shake against the back of her chair.  It was a long fifteen minutes. 

When the alarm sounded, Stephen snatched the towel from the table and swooped down to pull the soap from Abby’s mouth.  “Come over to the sink and rinse.”  He passed her a glass as he turned on the tap.  He kept his hand on her back, “Take your time.  It’s okay.” 

Abby had done her best to hold still and swallow as little as possible while the horrible taste of the soap made her throat convulse in repeated bids to vomit.  Doubled-up over the sink, she gasped and gagged and struggled to remember how to breathe around the disgusting film that persisted in making her want to wretch despite glass after glass of water.  When she felt like she had a chance of breathing somewhat normally, Abby gave one last emphatic spit and rose from the sink on shaking arms.  Stephen handed her the towel to wipe her face and pulled her against his chest, tucking her under his chin.  “Let’s just stand here and breathe for a bit.” 

They did just that.  Stephen released Abby gently when she pulled away and wiped at her eyes.  “Oh, god.  I never should have lied.  I’m so sorry, Stephen. I . . .”

“One more part of your punishment and then you can let it go and move on.”  He walked them back to the couch and sat down, tugging her hand so she stood in front of him.  “The reason I decided to wash your mouth out and smack you is because of what you lied about.  If it had been about something like not getting your reports in on time, or skipping a doctor’s appointment, I would have smacked you a bit as a reminder.  But you deliberately planned to lie to me, about a major injury and what happened during an anomaly alert.  So you’ve got a soapy mouth and this is going to be more than a reminder smack.  Understand?”

“Yes, Stephen.”

“Good.  Did you decide what you want me to do about your shorts?”  He glared hard when Abby giggled.  “Focus.  You’re in trouble for a reason!”

Abby shuddered, “Sorry.  Um, I guess you can just take them down.  The thong thing would just feel weird.  And I trust you not to . . . I trust you.”

“Okay.  I’ll take them down once you’re in position.  Take off your robe and come here.”  As soon as her robe was puddled on the floor, Stephen eased Abby down across his thighs, anchored her with his arm across her back and whisked her sleep shorts down as fast as he could.  Abby groaned and pushed her face into the couch.  “This is going to hurt.  I know you feel bad for lying to me and hiding things.  Focus on letting the hurt help you with that.  And remember it’s always okay to cry and move around as much as you want to.  That’s what a smacked bottom is meant to do.” 

Abby jumped when Stephen landed the first spank.  She was thinking she should brace herself when the next spank landed and then the next.  _Shit._ He was going too fast.  And that really stung. _Ow_.  She had said that out loud.  “Ow, ow, ouch.  Ah! Ow, auch, Steepheeeeen . . . aah, OW!”  She ought to be more worried that it was her bare bum his palm was smacking, but the thought didn’t hold out a chance against the relentlessly amping smart.  She was crying.  She felt horrible, she was tired, and ashamed of herself, and her heart hurt and her bum hurt and “ _Oooooww_.”  She kicked her feet and clutched at her big brother’s calf.  Abby gave herself over to her remorse.  She let it pour out of her.  Each spank pushed cries laden with guilt piling one over the other out of her mouth and into the air.  It felt so good to cry it out.  It felt terrible to cry it out this way.  It hurt and it wouldn’t stop.  Abby’s big brother was giving her a good smack on her bare bottom and that was all there was.  Sore bum and tears and the solid thighs below her and the unyielding arm above her.  The freedom to feel and cry, nothing more.  And nothing less.  “ _Waaaahh_.” 

It stopped.  She was crying still but her bottom didn’t hurt as much as it had a second ago.  The sting was already fading.  She could tell it would come right back with the right stimulus though.  “ _Stepheeen_ . . .”  

Stephen slid Abby’s pajama bottoms back into place and urged her up and over into a hug.  “I’m here.  I love you.  We’re done.  You’re forgiven.  I’ve got you, Abs.”  Abby took her trusted older brother at his word. 

Once they were both ready, Abby and Stephen stretched to their feet, joints popping.  Abby put her robe back on.  She reached her hands up underneath it to cup her behind. “That doesn’t feel nearly as hot as Connor implied it would be.”

“I didn’t smack you that hard.  Not even close to as hard as Nick smacked Connor before.”  Stephen took in Abby’s incredulous fish face and fought not to grin, “You were already pretty upset with yourself going in.  That was part of what the soap was for.  There are a lot of things you could do worse than lying.  I have to leave room for all that extra trouble somehow,” he winked. 

“That is not funny, Stephen Hart.”  Her answer was an unrepentant shrug. 

“Wait until the morning.  It’ll be mostly gone by then.  I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”  She went still. “Connor . . . . Stephen?”  They’d all seen Connor after Nick had dealt with his poor choices.  Everyone in the family knew that Nick had gone easier on Connor because of the circumstances leading up to that first smacking.  And what Connor had done yesterday with the luggage truck was easily as dangerous.  More so even.  Stephen’s face fell, “Yeah.  But he knew the rules, and he knows what happens when you do dangerous things the best of any of us.  I can’t let him off easy just because it’ll be difficult.”

Abby hugged him, “I know.  I’m sorry I made you do that.  And that you’ve got to do it to Connor too.”

“You didn’t ‘make’ me do anything.  Did I ‘make’ you let me smack you? . . . Abby?”

“No.  I didn’t want you to smack me.  But I know if I’d really not been okay with it happening, I could have said.” 

“It still totally sucked though,” Abby could hear the air quotes in Stephen’s voice.  Connor had a way with words, especially when it came to difficult situations.

“Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you, with him?”

Stephen shook his head, “No.  Thanks.  No one ever said love was easy.  With or without the smacking. . .”

Abby smiled.  She really liked this new, more demonstrative Stephen.  It felt good to hear those words and to say them. “I love you too.  And I’m really tired.  Is it okay if I go to bed now?  If you need to sleep, I can stay up and check on Connor next.”

“I’m good.  I’ll crash on the couch out here and we can both set an alarm.  Whoever slaps it off first gets to wake up Boy Wonder.”

Abby fetched Stephen a pillow and a blanket for the sofa.  He ushered her back to her bedroom, hugged her goodnight and tucked her in the same as he had their brother.  It felt good to initiate hugs instead of just returning them.  Back in the lounge, Stephen settled into the couch cushions and sighed.  He’d earned his beauty sleep, that was for sure.  Looking after younger siblings took a lot out of a man.

 

 

 


	4. Second Order of Magnitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking responsibility, for the second and first time.

Stephen opened his eyes to the alarm on his phone.  The second alarm on his phone.  Abby had apparently won the contest to take care of their concussed teammate.  He didn’t even remember his first alarm going off; he must have been more tired than he’d thought.  Stephen went to the kitchen to help with breakfast.  And coffee.  Definitely coffee.

After breakfast, while Connor was getting a shower, Abby slipped away and called Nick and Becker to have a quiet chat.  She had lost a lot of the lingering tension in her shoulders when she returned.  Stephen didn’t need to see her glancing at Connor to know the source of the remaining tension.  Speaking of, Connor seemed fine, other than continuing to take mild painkillers for a wholly unsurprising headache.  Stephen pulled out his mobile and made a quick call to the infirmary at the ARC, running down the post-concussion guidelines with the doctor on duty, and confirming that Connor should be fine to return to non-athletic activities.  He walked back into the lounge and cleared his throat, “Connor, I just got off with the doctor.  You’re cleared to go back to work, but they want you to stop in and get checked over before you go back into the field.”

“Great!  Thanks.”  Connor took a moment to catch up with all the implications of his being in the clear.  Medically, at least.  “Guess it’s my turn to face the music.”  He glanced at Abby and quirked his eyebrows at Stephen.

“You’re coming over to spend the day at my place.  I’ll drive us both into work in the morning.  Get ready to go and meet me by the car in fifteen minutes.”  Stern, quiet Stephen had returned.  While Connor scrambled to pack up his laptop and a rucksack with the overnight essentials, Stephen took the time to sit on the couch with Abby and help her feed Rex treats.  Exactly a quarter of an hour later, Stephen and Connor both hugged Abby goodbye and drove in silence to Stephen’s flat.  As the two men moved from the car into Stephen’s building, Connor made several abortive attempts to speak, all of which Stephen quelled with a glare and a curt gesture.  Once inside, Connor tried again, “Stephen. . .”

“Connor.  Put your stuff in the hall closet and go sit on the couch.”  Stephen was not going to be argued with.  Looking thoroughly miserable, Connor did as he was told.  Stephen took his time to gather his thoughts, making Connor wait in increasing anxiety.  That anxiety would hopefully place Connor’s transgressions squarely in the forefront of his mind as he anticipated the consequences Stephen was about to rain down on his head.  When he came into the room Connor looked at him with shining eyes.  The expression on Stephen’s face said he was completely done with Connor’s behavior, and still totally furious at him for it. 

His big brother stood and looked down at him and Connor couldn’t think of a single thing to say.  There was no getting away from that look, and nothing that could be said to ameliorate the emotion behind it.  Connor’s throat convulsed. 

Stephen crossed his arms.  “I am furious with you and I’m disappointed.  You didn’t give it a second’s thought when you put yourself in danger yesterday, and when you got hurt you lied about it like was _nothing_.  It’s not nothing to me.  It’s my brother almost dying where I can’t do a thing about it.  I was scared half to death when I saw the tape of what happened.  And that was before I watched you weaving all over the tarmac.  When you collapsed I was terrified you wouldn’t get up again.  And when I heard you’d been electrocuted. . . .  I know that something like that could happen no matter what I do. . .” 

Stephen had to stop talking and take several great, shuddering breaths.  “We have rules about this stuff for a reason.  I need to know that you’ll be as safe as you can out in the field.  And I need to be able to trust that you’re telling me the truth.  You’ve made it really hard for me to do that.  Do you have anything to say before I tell you how you’re going to be punished?”

Connor felt like he was going to vomit.  He shook his head.  ‘Sorry’ wasn’t going to cut it.  Not by a long shot.  Why had he thought anything he did would be remotely worth feeling like this?  Sitting here knowing exactly how bad he’d made his family feel, how he’d betrayed their trust, how he agreed that he deserved whatever he was about to get.  Connor felt wretched looking at his actions now in the aftermath.  He took cold comfort in knowing from past experience that his adopted family would forgive him and help him move on once he’d paid for his mistakes.  He assured himself that he could say no to whatever punishment Stephen was about to propose and his decision would be respected.  They would all do the work to deal with what he had done in another way.  But they didn’t trust him hardly at all right now.  He must have telegraphed his hesitation.  “Connor?  Do we need to handle this another way?”  Connor shook his head again. It should be fine.  They had forgiven him before.  “Please. . .”

“Please we do something else?  You need to say it, Connor.”  Connor understood that. It was still a struggle.  Stephen prodded, “No, we find another way.  Yes, we keep on with the way we agreed. One word.  You can tell me.”

Yes, he could tell Stephen.    “. . . Yes.”

Though Stephen’s expression hadn’t changed, his voice was warm and soft, “Thank you for letting me know that.” 

Stephen stepped back and pulled himself to his full height.  “There are three things you are in trouble for.  Taking the baggage truck to lure the G-rex away, playing down your injuries to Jenny and then hiding them from me, and lying about all of it.  Jenny was in charge of the team.  You didn’t even stop to ask her what she wanted to do or tell her what you were thinking of doing.  You decided to go out there on your own, with no warning and no one able to back you up.  That was stupid and dangerous enough.  But then you ignored the _perfectly good **car**_ and decided to take a **_baggage truck_** _that could barely go thirty miles per hour_ instead.  That’s the definition of ‘totally unnecessary risk to your life’ right there, Connor.  You ended up with a serious head injury, after you’d already had a serious electric shock.  Both of which you then deliberately lied to me about.”  Stephen took a deep breath.  He fought the need to pace back and forth. 

“Nick and Becker know what you did.  They agreed that you misbehaved on my watch, so I’m going to handle most of your punishment.”  Connor choked.  “You risking your life like that effects all of us, so Nick and Becker are going to be part of this too.  Nick was discharged from the hospital last night.  He and Becker are coming here later to deal with you in their own way.”  Connor hoped the whimper was just in his head. 

“For lying, you’re getting the same as Abby: your mouth washed out and fifteen minutes sitting with the soap in your mouth to think about why we don’t lie to each other.  For failing to consult with your team and get appropriate back-up, hiding injuries and risking your life doing something unnecessary and dangerous, I am going to spank you twice.”

“ _Twice_?!

“Be happy it isn’t three times.  Because believe me, Becks and Nick and I are happy to each give you a bloody hard spanking if you ever do something like this again.”

“Oh,” That whimper was very definitely out loud.

“This morning I am going to smack you with a hairbrush.  Cutter and Becker will be here for lunch.  After lunch you’ll stand in the corner doing recitations.  Becker and Nick are going to take turns reminding you of the rules however they see fit.  Tonight after dinner, I will put you back over my knee for your second spanking.  Do you want to say anything before we get started?”

Connor had given up on blinking away his tears when the hairbrush was mentioned.  His gloves were scratchy against his wet face.  Stephen sat down beside him and pulled his hand away from his eyes, “Here, use a tissue.  Sorry I’m not a handkerchief guy.”  His big brother held Connor’s hand while he blotted his tears with the wad of tissues. 

“Thanks.  It totally sucks hearing what’s coming all at once like that.”  He dropped his hand into his lap. “I know it’s fair.  Horrible and bloody _strict_ , but fair.”

Stephen yanked him into an unexpected hug, “That was an incredibly brave thing to admit, Conn.  I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Connor emitted a wet snort, “You’d admit it.  False modesty doesn’t become you, Stephen.”

“No, I wouldn’t admit it.  I’m not good at the emotional stuff the way you are.  I wish I had the courage to be honest about things that you have.”

“Well, _that’s_ a first.”

“It isn’t.  It just doesn’t get said a lot.”  Stephen chose to drop it for now.  But he was definitely going to work on breaking through the perceptions Connor had of himself as somehow ‘less than’ his more stereotypically ‘manly’ teammates. 

“I’m running out of brave anyway.  Can we get on with it?”

Stephen stood, “Of course.  Do me a favor first and ditch the gloves?  I want to be able to feel it when I hold your hand.”

“Okay, as long as we stop talking about it now.”  Connor stripped off his habitual hand coverings, taking extra care with the one covering the bandage over his burned palm. 

“One last thing.  You don’t have to be brave for me.  Just work with me so that this does what it’s supposed to and we don’t have to do it again for a long time, yeah?”

Stephen led them into the kitchen and guided Connor into a chair, “Sit there and think about why we don’t lie to each other in this family.  I’ll be right back.” 

Connor’s reaction to a well-soaped mouth was the same as Abby’s, and the fifteen-minute wait was just as long for both him and Stephen.  Connor tried not to even think about breathing or swallowing or getting the soap out of his mouth, just in case the nausea got the better of him and he did spit it out and earn himself something even worse.  Once he’d rinsed and toweled himself off, Connor stayed facing the sink with his hands carefully braced on the edge, dry-heaving and light-headed from panting in distress.  He leaned sideways and let Stephen’s sturdy shoulder hold him up for a bit. 

When the time seemed right, Stephen squeezed Connor’s shoulder, “Time for your first smacking.  Is my bedroom okay, or do you want to do it on the couch?”  It took him a moment to realize why Connor’s shoulders were shaking, “That was not supposed to sound like a line from a low-budget porn and you know it.  Answer the question.” The slap he landed to the seat of Connor’s jeans had the desired effect and his little brother sobered.

“Sorry.  Wasn’t that funny.  Bedroom’s fine.”  _If this time with Stephen was anything like it was last time with Nick, he was definitely going to appreciate a place to lie down once it was over_.

Stephen towed Connor by the arm into the bedroom.  He retrieved the hairbrush he’d acquired last week from the nightstand.  If anyone asked, it was his mother’s and had sentimental value.  He seated himself on the side of the bed, set the brush behind him and used Connor’s hand to draw him closer.  “Jeans are coming down.  You’ve got thirty seconds and then I do it for you.”  Ten seconds later Connor had his trousers around his knees. 

Stephen patted his thigh, and then helped Connor into place as the other man awkwardly bent to lower himself into position.  Just as Connor was almost flat over his knees, Stephen closed his hand around the waistband of his shorts and yanked them down as well.  He made a few quick adjustments so that Connor was securely supported and settled his arm over his teammate’s back.  “The soap was for the lies.  Everything starting now is for hiding your injuries, and for doing dangerous things and risking your life.  Do you need help focusing on why you’re in trouble?”

“No.  I know what I did wrong.  I’m sorry.”

“Good. You know you can fight and cry as much as you need to.  It’s part of the process.  Don’t short-change yourself.” 

“I wasn’t planning to-OW!”  Stephen snapped his hand down.  He smacked the same spot four more times and moved on to the next area of untouched skin.  Once he’d pinkened up the whole of the target area, he put a bit more force into it and set to spanking at a fair clip, alternating cheeks from top to bottom and then back up.  Connor was vocalizing from the start.  Hissing transitioned to whimpers, soft grunts and moans.  Stephen continued working the smarting skin, hard hand completing another three cycles of down-and-up-again, causing Connor’s legs to flutter along to a continuous stream of ever louder yelps and wet apologies.  The tracker clenched his jaw against his little brother’s constant stream of ‘I’m sorry, ow, please, ouch, I’m so sorry, it stings, ow, ow, ow, Stephen, please. . .”  Tears were now giving way to sobs.  He swung his leg over Connor’s jerking ones in preparation and reached behind him for the hairbrush. 

It was a thick, square wooden brush.  One that packed a nasty sting, if the few test smacks Stephen had applied to his own thigh and inner forearm had been an accurate indication.  Reminding himself that he already had a heavy hand, and that repetition would do much of the job by itself, Stephen raised his arm and smacked the hairbrush down onto Connor’s blushing red bum.  The reaction was immediate.  Connor bucked up and yowled, throwing both his hands back to clutch at his exposed cheeks.  Stephen set the brush aside and used both of his hands to move Connor’s hands out of the way.  He pulled the left one to his brother’s side and pinned it between their bodies.  He held the right wrist in the small of Connor’s back, pressing down as firmly as he could with his forearm to anchor him in position.

 He took up the brush once more and set about giving Connor something to yowl about and then some.  Stephen brought the hard back of the hairbrush down with gusto, spanking so that every impact brought with it frantic see-saw kicking and squalling sobs that quickly ran into each other.  Reversing his swing so he was bringing the brush down from the top of Connor’s bottom rather than the side, Stephen concentrated on painting every available centimeter of sore bum a solid ruddy rose.  He paid special attention to landing licks on the sensitive under curve, taking care to precisely target the crease where bottom met thigh. 

Connor was sobbing pitifully and with total abandon, jerking miserably with each terrible smack.  Stephen knew his brother was almost to the point he needed to be.  The point where he was only aware of the terrible pain in his bottom, where he cried out the negative feelings tangled inside his chest _because_ his bottom hurt.  He raised his arm to shoulder height and propelled the flat of the hairbrush down in a fierce ***S _pank_** * Again, * ** _Spank_** * And another, * ** _Spank_** * Connor’s body was rigid. * ** _Spank_** * _C’mon baby brother, almost there_. * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * Connor didn’t have enough energy left to both fight the pain and cry it out. * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * Connor’s body slumped forward and melted over Stephen’s supporting thighs. * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * Connor **_bawled_**. * ** _Spank_** * _There it is.  You scared yourself bad yesterday.  Let it out._   * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** * * ** _Spank_** *

Stephen lowered his arm and eased his wrist.  The hairbrush paddled light and quick over brick red skin, keeping the fire in the blazing bottom crackling and spitting, urging its owner to lay limp and abandon himself to his punishment.  The sound of caterwauling filled the flat.  Stephen set the brush aside and returned to spanking with his hand.  Connor’s bottom was hot enough to feel from several inches away.  _Just two minutes more, get it all out_ . . . Stephen smacked crisply, hand moving in circuit after circuit over every bit of sore bum.  _Almost . . . a bit more . . . you can do this, Stephen, see it through . . ._ Done.  Stephen sat, gasping and blinking, feeling as distressed as Connor sounded.


	5. Collateral Damages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're getting through it, and then they aren't.

Stephen’s hands shook as he let his little brother’s wrist go and lifted his leg clear of Connor’s thighs.  Using his training in shooting and tracking, Stephen took deep, calming breaths and steadied his hands.  As if he were caressing the most fragile fragment of fossilized bone, he slid his hands under Connor’s shirt and rubbed the trembling back.  He murmured assurances, although if you had asked him later, Stephen would never have been able to tell you the words he said.  The tightness in Stephen’s chest ebbed slowly, easing away as Connor’s sobs lowered in volume and profundity.  When he sensed that Connor was beginning to be aware of his surroundings again, Stephen reached down and gingerly drew Connor’s shorts up to cover his brother’s bottom.  Keeping his touch assured and gentle, he coaxed his hands around his brother’s sides, pressing up and turning the rising torso into his arms.  He latched onto Connor and clamped him to his chest. 

Two grown men clinging as tightly as they can to each other when neither of them is securely seated is not a stable combination.  Connor and Stephen wobbled, teetered to their feet in an attempt to regain balance, and toppled over sideways onto the bed.  Stephen scrambled back upright, caught the reeling, moaning Connor and pulled him back into a much more stable bear hug.  He slowly walked them backwards to the head of the bed, letting go so he could hop onto the mattress, scoot over a few feet and turn back toward Connor with open arms.  Connor took the invitation and dove after Stephen, curling sideways onto his hip and leaning his head into his big brother’s chest.  Stephen wrapped Connor securely in his arms and rocked them both.  Connor held on and cried himself down to hiccups.  “It’s done.  We’re both okay.  I love you.  You’re still a great big brother.” 

“Can’t be that great if you’re doing my lines for me.”

“Shut up and hug me harder, King of Thieves.”

“No one is ever going to let that ‘Stevie Nicks’ thing go, are they?”

“Nope.  You told Becks we nicknamed him after a beer.  And you _are_ the only one who doesn’t use a short form of his name.”

“Can you think of a decent short version of ‘Stephen’?”

“Yeah, I never was a fan of ‘Steve’ myself.  Of course, if it doesn’t have to be part of your name, the field’s wide open. . .”

“No, just. . . ‘King of Thieves’ is fine.  Really.”

“Not making any promises, mate.  Who knows, I might come up with something really cool.”

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”

“Oi.  No need to get sarky on me.  If anyone’s got a right to get sarky, it’s me.  I’m the one who just got his arse handed to him.”  Connor’s brain caught up to his mouth. “I’ve got more coming.  Oh _shit_.  Stephen. . .?”

“Sorry, no.  I’ll put ice and lotion on it for you in a bit, but the rest of it stands.”

Connor sat back and blinked, “Am I allowed to have ice and lotion in the middle of things?”

Stephen was feeling decidedly bolshie all of a sudden, “Yes.  You are.  Like Nick said, ‘you paid for your mistakes, I’m not going to insist you remain in pain when I can do something about it.’”

Connor glared, “But I’m still in the middle of paying for my mistakes.  I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I need to know what to expect.”  He sat up and squared off to Stephen.  The complete lack of a wince testified to his indignation, “You can’t just change things up on me like that, Stephen.  Not when it comes to the comforting.  I thought that sort of thing was for _after_ you were done punishing me.  Now you’re saying that you might give me something to soothe the pain in the middle of things, depending on who knows what, and then I have to _go back_ to being punished knowing I’m going to be in more pain?  That’s not fair.  Comfort needs to be comfort, not something you can give and take back whenever the mood strikes you.”

Stephen held up his hands, “I’m sorry.  You’re right.  It’s way out of line for me to change anything about how comforting works if it’s not going to always be that way.”  Connor didn’t give an inch.  _Damn, he’d really messed up_.  “Okay.  We need to talk about this as a family.  I think I should call Nick and Becker and ask them to come over now, and see if Abby will come too.  Or maybe we could do it as a conference call?” _Now you’ve made it even worse._  

Connor narrowed his eyes, “We might be able to do it as a video conference.  Okay.  Let’s call them.  But I’m the one who’s doing the talking.”

Stephen nodded with relief, “Absolutely.  It’s your show.” 

Connor rolled off the bed and stood.  And gasped back into tears. “Ow, ow, _ow_.”  Stephen stood and tentatively reached out to put a steadying hand on Connor’s shoulder.  Connor didn’t acknowledge the touch, but he didn’t lean away.  He allowed Stephen to maintain the contact as he pulled his jeans back into place and they walked back out into the kitchen.  Stephen counted himself lucky.

Connor retrieved Stephen’s mobile from the counter and dialed without asking permission.  “Can you get my laptop out of my bag?”  Stephen did as he was told.  As he brought it back, he heard, “Cutter, Stephen and I need to talk to you about something.  I’m going to set up a video conference with you and Becker and Abby.  Oh.  Get your laptop set up and I’ll bring you in on the chat in two minutes.”  He ended the call and dialed again. “Abby, I’m setting up a video conference with all of us.  Two minutes.” 

Connor turned to his laptop on the kitchen counter without a glance for the man who’d put it there.  In the promised two minutes Stephen and Connor were looking at a split screen with Nick and Becker on one side and Abby on the other.  Connor’s body was quaking, his teary, red face set in a rictus of forced stoicism.  He was obviously fighting to keep his emotional and physical reactions to an incredibly sore backside down so he could say what he needed to say.  His big brother watched as Connor stood before their family, uncomforted and alone.  Because Stephen had put him in a place where he had to separate himself and get to his feet.  Right after Stephen had kicked those feet out from under him with an extremely hard, prejudicial hand.  _There was nothing he could do to make this better_.  Stephen stayed in the background and let Connor take the lead.

“Connor?  What’s going on?”  Nick and Becker had looked suspicious and set to scold when they’d first come in on the chat.  Their faces now showed nothing but anxious concern.  Abby looked even more distressed on Connor’s behalf than she had when she’d come on.

“We need to talk about comfort procedures.  Stephen wants to change them.”

“Now?  You’re still in the middle things,” Becker clarified.  Storm clouds were rapidly gathering in Nick’s face. 

“You can’t change things in the middle.  That’s not fair,” Abby glared at Stephen.

Connor nodded grimly, “That’s what I told him.  So we’re taking a break to call a family meeting.”

Nick was glowering directly at Stephen, “What changes are we talking about?”  Stephen’s bum was tingling.

Connor took a deep breath, “Stephen said I was getting two spankings.  And whatever you two decide to do in between.”

Stephen needed to take responsibility for this, “I just finished smacking Connor with the hairbrush.  He got distracted from the next part of the punishment and when he remembered, I said I’d put ice and lotion on for him now, but he was still getting the rest of it.”

Becker’s disapproval stiffened his spine into parade rest.  “So you offered him comfort when he had no idea if he could count on getting the same again in the future.”

“ _Bloody hell_ , Stephen. . .” Nick cut himself off.  “So we need to decide if ice and lotion after a smacking is okay if you’ve got another one coming.”

Connor nodded, “Yeah.”

“It’s not fair to have a whole long debate about it now.  That means Connor has to wait longer with the next part hanging over his head.”  Stephen dropped his eyes from Abby’s accusing gaze.  _He hadn’t thought about that either.  ‘Bloody hell, Stephen’ was right_. 

Nick forcibly exhaled, “It seems like the fairest thing to do right now is to table this discussion until tomorrow when Connor’s punishment is over and we can take as long as we need with it.  Does that work for you, lad?”

Connor nodded, “Yeah.  No changes for now and we talk it out tomorrow.”

They all nodded in confirmation.  Becker caught Connor’s eye, “Do you want Nick and I to come out there now?  And take over?”  Stephen flinched.  _He’d brought this on himself with his own impulsive insensitivity_.  _He’d brought this on **Connor** , and that was much, much worse_. 

Connor hesitated and glanced at Stephen, “I don’t know about taking over, but you should come.  Stephen . . .  I just, I need to know what’s going to happen.  For sure.”

“Stephen already tossed everything up in the air and made you pick up the pieces.”  If Abby could have slapped Stephen via video, she would have done it. 

Nick stood, “We’ll be right there.  No one is letting you off from anything, lad.  But we’ll take our cue from you as to who does the rest of the punishing.  We’ve wasted enough time with this discussion.  Goodbye, Abby. We’ll all see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Nick, bye Becker.  Bye, Connor.  It’ll be over soon and you’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Thanks, Abby.  Bye.”  The screen went dark.  Connor closed the laptop as Stephen slipped his phone into his pocket.  He didn’t want to miss it if Becker or Cutter texted with a delay.  “I need to know if you want me to take charge again or not,” Stephen offered. 

“As long as you don’t change anything else on me. Yes, you’re in charge.”  Connor finally turned to look at him. 

Stephen squared his shoulders.  _Now wasn’t the time for sorry.  Now was the time to get things back to normal_. “We weren’t finished hugging when I cocked everything up.  Little brothers with sore bums get as many hugs as they want.”  Connor stilled, and then he was deflating as the will power getting him through the family consultation collapsed and his sore bum and its aftermath rushed into the hollow place left behind. 

“ _It hurts_.”  Connor stepped into Stephen’s arms and shook with high-pitched tears. 

Stephen pulled Connor in and rubbed his back.  “I know.  It’s supposed to hurt.  Come on.”  He walked them both to the couch.  The movement brought Connor’s blazing bottom roaring back to life and pulled fresh shaky sobs out of its owner.  Stephen kept one arm tight around Connor as he quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it onto the floor.  He eased them down and settled against the armrest, guiding Connor down to lie against his chest.  “Let it out.  I’ve got you.”  Stephen cradled Connor and rocked him as he cried.  If Connor sounded uncertain and breathy where before he’d abandoned himself to whole-hearted tears in Stephen’s arms, _Well then, you know who’s to blame for that don’t you, Stephen_? 

Stephen’s phone buzzed on the floor.  Stephen glanced down.  A text from Cutter saying they were ten minutes out.  “Connor?  They’re almost here, time to get things back on track.  You need to refocus on why you’re in trouble.”  _I want to stop now.  I want to make it better._   Stephen wished the pit in his stomach would yawn wider and swallow up all of Connor’s uncertainty and pain. _You’ve been selfish enough today, Stephen Hart.  Connor needs you to stick to the routine._ “Think about why your bottom hurts and your mouth tastes like soap.  You risked your life and lied about it and you are still in deep trouble for all of it.”  Connor took deep breaths and did just that.  He shuddered as his thoughts returned to exactly what had happened the day before, and what his family was doing about it. 

The doorbell rang.  There was the sound of a key in the lock.  Stephen and Connor rose from the couch and went to greet Nick and Becker as they came through the door.  Stephen met Nick’s eyes, and then Becker’s.  Both men gave imperceptible nods.  They were on the same page.  This was about Connor.  Who looked as horribly, miserably tear-drenched and strung out as any of them had ever seen anyone look. 

Nick pulled Connor into a hug, “I’m very glad you’re safe, lad.  And I’m proud of you for calling us.”  Cutter held on to his protégé for a minute to bolster him for the coming storm. 

Becker took Connor from Nick, “As am I.  Concussions aren’t something to mess around with.  But you did a great job looking out for yourself with the comfort thing.”  Becker held Connor just as long.  He smiled grimly at Nick when their friend crowded in from the side and splayed his hand on Connor’s back.  A minute more and Becker and Nick stepped back.  Cutter brought Stephen to join them with a glance. 

Nick drew Connor to stand in front of all three of them.  “We’re here for a reason.  You risked your life out at that airport, for no good reason, and you disrespected all of us by lying about it.  I am very, very angry with you.  Make no mistake, Connor.  If Stephen hadn’t been there, it would be my knee you’d be over, _at least_ twice.  Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Nick,” Connor whispered. 

“We already lost Stephen once.  None of us want to feel a loss like that, ever again.  So it is _bloody well your **responsibility**_ to make sure that you keep yourself safe,” Nick shook his head in disappointment.  “That’s why you are, and will always be, in deep, _deep_ trouble for risking your life, and for not looking after yourself.  I expect you to use the memory of today to remember that.”  Nick leaned back and crossed his arms.  The glare he had fixed on Connor didn’t give an inch. 

It took everything Connor had not to avert his eyes down to his boots.  Cutter’s scolding was devastatingly effective.

Becker cleared his throat.  “I am appalled at you, Connor.  You broke the most important rules our family has, and you didn’t seem to think it was a big deal until you were caught.  As far as I’m concerned, you deserve exactly what you’re getting.” 

Connor’s voice was wretchedly wet, “I’m sorry, Becks.”

Nick stood obdurate with his fellow disciplinarians.  “We three are going to make very sure of that.  We’ve decided against you writing lines this time. But you will do recitations.  A hundred for each of us.  Becker will have you over his knee for a reminder smack after the first set, and you’ll be over mine after the second.  You can do the last set with a bare bottom to make sure the lesson sticks.”

Connor was whey-faced, “I. . . please, Nick. . . Becker, I know I messed up but _please_.”

“None of us want to have to do this ever again, lad.  ‘I will not do something dangerous when there is an alternative.’  One hundred times.  Nose in the corner.”  Cutter took Connor’s arm and marched him to the corner farthest from the door.  “No more than half a minute between numbers.  You get one warning.  After that you restart the count with twenty numbers taken off the total.  Nose to the wall and start reciting.” 

They listening to Connor’s sodden, heavy breathing and waited in silence.  “One, I will not do something dangerous when there is an alternative.  Two, I will not do something dangerous when there is an alternative.  Three, I will not. . .”  Connor got all the way to eighty before he faltered.  He rallied after Nick’s warning, but stalled again at eighty-five and ended up restarting his count at sixty-five.  The second time around, Connor made it all the way through to, “One huh-hundred.  I will not do something d-dangerous when there is an alternative.  _And I’m sorry_!”

Becker was right there to turn Connor toward him, “We know you are.  You did well.  We’re being very hard on you, because we don’t want to lose you.”  Becker held Connor by the upper arms and looked into his face, “ _I_ don’t want to lose you.” 

“I don’t want to be lost.  I’m sorry.” 

Becker nodded, “I’m a soldier, I know all about calculated risks.  That wasn’t a calculated risk you took yesterday.  I won’t accept losing my brother to something he could have easily prevented.”  He walked them to the couch, in front of which there was a kitchen chair.  Becker put a foot up on the chair and tipped Connor over his knee.  “This is a reminder so the jeans stay up.  But I’m not going any easier because you’re sore already.  A dozen for doing something dangerous and twelve for not looking for an alternative first.”  He raised his hand, “Remember not to put yourself in danger next time,” and landed a firm swat to Connor’s seat.  “One,” chorused three voices as Connor yelped.  By “twelve,” Connor was crying and kicking hard with each smack.  Becker gave his thigh a squeeze, “One more set.  Remember to always look for ways to stay safe.”  He lifted his hand again. . .  “One.”  When the final “twelve” sounded, Becker stood and pulled his little brother into his arms, “I’ve got you.  I love you.  Remember that too.”  Connor returned the hug and accepted the tissue Stephen handed him when he stepped back.  Connor turned to Nick hopefully and immediately got the hug he wanted, followed by one from Stephen.  He turned to face Becker in response to a touch on his shoulder.  “Back to the corner for the second set. ‘I will not ignore or hide injuries.’  One hundred times. Go.”

Connor did his best, but even with his family’s support, it had been an emotionally grueling day already. This time, he had to restart his count twice, making one hundred and forty recitations by the time he choked on the final sentence.  Nick turned him away from the corner on the last syllable and just stood and held his shoulders, rubbing his lad’s collar bones with his thumbs and waiting.  When Connor looked up, he leaned in so that their noses met, “This family has had enough injuries and too many of them have been life-threatening.  I don’t want to ever get a call telling me you were hurt and I could have done something but I didn’t know.  I _will not_ lose you to something that can be prevented.”  Nick led Connor to the chair and turned him over his raised knee. “You lied about the electric shock and about the concussion.  That’s two sets of twelve.”  He rested his hand on Connor’s bum, “Remember to take any injury seriously, no matter how small.  We expect you to look after yourself.”  Twelve three-toned incantations and twelve wretched yowls later, Cutter rested his hand again. “Last set.  Remember that hiding injuries is never acceptable in this family.”  This time each swat elicited a pitiful wail.  Nick stood with Connor and wrapped him up in his arms.  “I love you.  I won’t stop no matter how many rules you break.  Remember, you’re mine now and mine always.”  Stephen and Becker joined the two men in their embrace as they waited for Connor to cry out his aching heart. 

Connor was beginning to think he couldn’t possibly have any tears left in his body, and then he was crying again.  The only emotional control he had left was down to years of habit and exhaustion;  And to the three men who accepted his reactions unconditionally and didn’t stint on the support, even when they were being extra stern with him.  Stephen nudged him from the side.  He turned and blinked at the Lucozade bottle in his friend’s hand.  “I know you don’t like it much, but all the crying is making you dehydrated.  This will help.”  Connor gave him a wobbly smile and accepted the bottle.  He struggled to get the cap off for a few seconds before Nick took it from him and removed it himself.  He and Becker gently guided Connor to lean his hip against the back of the couch, waiting patiently while he sipped the sports drink, then gulped it as he realized how thirsty he was.  He came up for air with a cough to find Stephen holding out another bottle, cap already removed.  Connor drank the second bottle at a slow, steady pace, feeling more and more steady as the fluids took effect.  He swayed as he pushed off the couch to stand upright, _okay, maybe not that steady after all_.  Nick held him still through the vertigo, “Connor?  Have you been dizzy before now?” 

“No.  I think I just moved too fast.  And it’s all catching up to me.  I’m not going to hide that I’m feeling ill while being punished for hiding that I was injured.”

“Okay.  Last recitations then, if you’re ready.”  Connor nodded.  He just wanted it _done_.  “Nose back in the corner, trousers and pants down this time.  ‘I will not lie to the people who care about me’.”  Connor made himself do it before he had a chance to really think about it.  He felt his stomach turn over when the air of the flat registered on his heated skin.  This was so much worse with his bottom bare and on display to the room.  The soft noises Cutter and Becker made in response to their first look at his well-spanked posterior went unnoticed.  He took a deep breath, “One, I will not lie to the people who care about me. . . .”  

By some miracle, Connor made it to the end with two warnings, but without having to restart his count once.  He sagged against the wall as three pairs of hands settled on his shoulders and back, some dropping away momentarily to pull his clothing back up to his waist.  Connor stayed where he was and just breathed.  All of it was hitting him, piling down on top of him like the cars of a derailed train: the days of stress and overwork; the responsibility of dealing with an anomaly with just Abby and Jenny alongside him; the sheer terror of staring the G-rex in the face; the disorientation of the concussion; the elation of getting the ALD to work; the guilt, shame and horrible remorse of being discovered and made to face up to his decisions; the gut-wrenching effort of the video conference.  Hysteria rose up, “ _Help_ , it’s too much, please, I _can’t_.”

“We’ve got you.  It’s okay.”

“We’re right here, Connor.  Just relax and let us take it.”

“Easy, lad, just breathe and give us the load.  Lean on us.  That’s it.”

Three pairs of tender, supporting hands held him up and caressed understanding and comfort into his back and head and neck.  They were moving and then he was lying down, cocooned on both sides by warm bodies, the weight of another’s hands resting on his side from above.  Connor didn’t have the wherewithal to hold on anymore.  He drifted off, the anxiety under his skin floating away in the haze, lying quiet under the steady, undemanding presence of Stephen and Nick and Becker.


	6. Push Back and Pull Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting things back on track, with a little help from your family.

Connor was aware of deep, soft voices, then warm bodies snugged close. . . then his weight shifting on the mattress. . . then the rub of cotton against the tip of his nose as the chest it covered moved with breath and voice.  And then he was awake enough to know he was coming awake and that he didn’t want to be.  He wondered if he could reach up and pull the blanket resting against his cheek all the way over his head without it looking deliberate.  He opened his hand.  His eyes took conscious, directed movement as their cue to flutter open and blink his vision into focus.  He hadn’t realized the buttons on Nick’s shirt were mottled like that.  They looked solid from a distance.  “Seems our youngest’s awake.” 

_There was a joke there if he could be bothered to concentrate_.  “Thought Abby was the youngest.”  Connor’s tongue felt fuzzy.  “Hi.”  _If Cutter was the dad, then which of Becks and Stephen was the mum? . . . And there was that joke_.  “That make Lester the mum?”  Apparently he had no filter right now _and_ his brain was going weird places without his consent. 

“Nah, we’re a non-traditional family.  Very modern and forward thinking,” Becker hooked his chin over Connor’s shoulder from the back.

“Oh, very.  They could do a feature on us in The Guardian.”  Nick stretched his legs, bumping knees with Connor, who did not appreciate being jostled.  Stephen didn’t chime in.  That felt both odd, and like it was a good call right now.  Maybe they could have fun coming up with above-the-fold titles and by-lines later on, once things were . . . over with.  Which they weren’t. 

“ _Why_ are we not done yet?”

There was silence.  The kind of silence where you can hear people frowning down at you.

“Why don’t you take a moment and rephrase that?”  Nick’s tone clearly said he was only going to refrain from giving Connor the sharp side of his tongue for so long.  And the clock was ticking.

“I’m still being punished.  Could someone please tell me when I can expect the next part?”  There.  That sounded reasonable enough.  And snottier by far than he’d meant for it come out.

“Just as soon as I deal with this attitude you seem to have woken up with.” 

_I’m the one who’s woken up to a tongue-lashing_.  Mercifully, he hadn’t said that one out loud.  _Anyway, you deserve it and you know it.  Well done with the self-preservation there, Connor.  Just try to keep from shooting your mouth off already_.  “Sorry.  I am taking this seriously, honest.”

Cutter climbed off the bed and helped Connor to his feet.  And _shit_ there was his bum reminding him just how sore it was, “ _Ooooow_. Ow, ooow.”  His mentor’s face was understanding, but unsympathetic.  “We’re not done yet because we said so.  You’re not in control of this punishment.  We are.  You risked your life and lied about it and we’re giving you exactly what we agreed you deserve.”

Connor leaned away.  “Am I getting another reminder?”

Cutter frowned.  Connor hunched even farther from him. _Oh, Nick, you stupid arse_.  “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all.  C’mere, you’re not getting more, I promise.”  He stepped forward and pulled Connor into a hug.  “I’m sorry.  I phrased that badly.  I didn’t mean I was going to punish you for having an attitude.  You can have all the attitude you want.”  Connor scoffed.  “Aye, you can.  I was having one myself, and that wasn’t fair to you.  This whole thing isn’t easy on any of us and that’s going to make us prickly.  I say something amiss, you go right ahead and call me on it.  I’d rather you bite my head off and storm out then submit to something you don’t think is fair.”   

Stephen ran a hand through his hair.  He shared a look with Becker.  “Connor, are you okay to keep going?  There’s been a lot of stuff to make it harder for you today than it should be.  _I_ _’ ve_ made it harder than it should be.  And now Nick. . . this may not be working.”  He held his hands up, “I’m not giving up on you, or any of it.”

Connor stepped away from Nick and sighed, “I know that.  But I am _fucking well **tired**_ of being the one being reasonable in this situation.  And I don’t want. . . I need for things to work the way we said they’d work.  Just, _stop making me decide on my own_!” 

Becker knew how to step in and take command. “Connor.  I will handle things and you all are going to let me do so for now.  We are going in there and having lunch.  We will evaluate the situation after lunch and decide how to proceed.”  He fixed Connor with his best no-nonsense, ‘I’m the commanding officer and don’t you dare forget it’ stare, “We _will_ proceed.”  He turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen.  Connor followed.  Nick followed.  Stephen took a moment to take that in, and hurried to catch up.

Becker had the reigns firmly in his teeth now.  “Nick, please make us some tea.  Stephen, do you have enough in for lunch?  Or are we getting something in?” 

Stephen frowned, “I know I have enough for me and Connor.  I hadn’t really thought about feeding you and Nick.”  Whom he’d invited over for lunch what seemed like eons ago now, “Sorry.”

“Pizza then.  Or Italian.  We all need more nutrition than pizza has.  Menus?”  Stephen shook his head.

“I can look them up on my laptop,” Connor offered.  “Anywhere in particular?”

Stephen ran down the list of places in his memory, “There’s a place called Stefano’s a couple Tube stops over.  It’s got a big menu, prices are reasonable and the food’s good too.  And they deliver.”

Becker nodded at Connor.  In the few minutes it took Connor to get the menu downloaded from Stefano’s website and pull it up on the screen, Nick had finished making the tea and passed out mugs, each doctored to the recipient’s tastes.  Becker grabbed the pen and notepad on the counter by the landline, scrolled through the menu, made notes and stepped out of the kitchen to call the order in on his mobile.  Stephen and Connor shared a raised eyebrow.  Apparently they weren’t going to be in charge of what they ate for lunch either.  Nick looked startled and then resigned.  Connor picked his mug of tea up off the counter, shut his laptop and offered, “I’ll set the table,” and blanched.  “Stephen?  What’s the softest pillow you’ve got in the house?”  And there was another thing they hadn’t discussed. “Or do I have to sit?”  Poor Connor looked ill at the thought. 

Nick shook his head, “I don’t see why.  Eating’s not supposed to be part of the punishment.”  He turned to look at Stephen and Becker, “I think we can agree on that?”  Both men nodded.

“Of course.”

“Agreed.  If there’s a problem with the counter, we’ll figure out another way for you to eat standing up.  Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, Action Bro.  And now I’m really hungry.  When’s it supposed to get here?”

“They said twenty minutes.  Go ahead and get started on your report.  I assume you haven’t started it yet?”

Connor shook his head at Becker, “No. . . hasn’t been time, between getting my head examined and resting and then Stephen showing up, and. . . the rest of it.”

“Go on, then.”

Connor gave a decent salute, without the upright bearing, “On it, Captain Becks, sir!” 

“There’s a joke about cheeky monkeys typing in there, but I’m not going to make it.”

“I don’t know, we might get War and Peace out of him yet.”  Nick offered from over the lip of his steaming mug of tea.   

“What, in the original Russian?”  Stephen knew the value of humor to normalize a situation. 

“Seems equally likely.”

“Sure, if we’re talking actual monkeys.  _Le Connor Temple_ on the other hand, is quite good with languages I’ll have you know.”

“We look forward to being surprised by your next Cyrillic masterpiece.”  Nick was gratified to see Connor grin. 

Stephen and Becker pulled out chairs and joined Nick at the table with their tea.  The only sounds for a while were slurps and clicking keys.  The food arrived right on time and was healthy and delicious.  There was even an eggplant dish that Nick would eat, and apparently enjoy.  The others noted this down for future reference.  Nick Cutter was picky about how he ate his vegetables.  All three men kept an eye on Connor to make sure that he ate his fill and drank plenty of water, and not just tea.  Connor was privately amused.  _Guess being fed and watered is part of procedures as well.  Have to make sure that gets written down with the rest_. 

Once they’d all finished, and Becker had directed clean-up, the inevitable pause descended.  Their military family member did not let it linger for long, “Stephen, you originally told Connor that his second spanking would be tonight, and that Nick and I would deal with him after lunch?”

Stephen nodded, “And then I was a total berk and things got moved up.”

Becker faced Connor head on and folded his arms.  This was both less and more intimidating than parade rest. “I see no reason to delay until tonight, do either of you?”

Nick shook his head, “Waiting will do no one any good.”

“No, no reason.”

Becker turned so he was facing more toward his fellow disciplinarians, “We need to agree on how we’re going to do this.  My suggestion is that Stephen does the smacking, and Nick and I watch.”

Nick nodded, “Aye, I agree.  Stephen?”

Stephen nodded emphatically, “Yes.”

All three men turned to look at Connor, whose face was bright red.  “In future, could you maybe not discuss that stuff right _in_ _front_ of me?”  He gave a theatrical shudder. 

“Right. Sorry.”

“Sorry, Conn.”

Stephen took a deep breath.  He stood and took Connor by the arm and raised his eyebrows.  Connor held himself very still for three beats, then his shoulders rounded down as he nodded, breath hitching.  Stephen squeezed Connor’s arm.  He made sure his face showed nothing but stern resolve.  “We’re doing this one on the couch.  Let’s go.”  Nick and Becker fell in behind them in silence, and took seats across from the couch as Stephen seated himself in the middle and brought Connor to face him.  “We’ve been over what you did wrong many times today.  We’re going to go over it once more when you’re over my knees.  It may be my hand that’s smacking your bum, but you’re being smacked on behalf of our entire family, and the three of us,” he raised his eyes to meet Nick’s and Becker’s in turn, “are here to make sure you understand that.  Jeans are coming down.” 

He reached up and lowered his little brother’s denim trousers to his knees and pulled him down over his lap.  Before Connor could settle, he took the waistband of his shorts in both hands and whisked them down to bare his bottom.  The bottom in question was still a dark mauve, and looked very painful indeed.  Which was entirely the point, Stephen reminded himself.  He set his arm across Connor’s back and rested his hand on his thigh.  He looked Nick and Becker in the eyes and started them off, “Yesterday, you risked your life by doing something dangerous and stupid and then when you got hurt, you lied to my face that you were fine, and that things ‘went off without a hitch.’  I’m going to smack you good and hard now, and that will be the last of your punishment.  When this is over, you’re done paying for your mistakes.  Got it?”

“Uh-hunh,” Connor gave a miserable squirm.

Stephen steadied himself.  He was ready to finish with a blaze of gloriously alive, and _very_ sore-bottomed little brother.  “Get ready to cry your eyes out, Connor.  You’ve earned every spank.”  Stephen Hart raised his hand high and brought it down _hard_.  And waited two beats.  And spanked Connor’s bottom _hard_.  Wait.   _Spank_.  Wait.   _Spank_.  Each _Spank_ was followed immediately by a _Howl_.  Frenzied thrashing necessitated he employ hand, arm and leg to pin Connor in place for continued chastisement by the third spank.  When every area of the proffered bottom had felt his hand, Stephen began to apply determined attention to a second round at three-quarters the strength.  Howl became wailing hullabaloo.  _This is important enough to finish strong_.  Each spot reignited into red-hot pain by two connections with Stephen’s calloused palm, Connor’s big brother let up.  Now Stephen’s hand was firm yet light as he flicked his wrist to apply a crisp pitter-pat-pit of spanks one on top of the other. 

Stephen looked up at Nick’s stoic face, crumpled at the edges.  He glanced down at his friend’s wrist.  “Two,” he mouthed.  He thought that Nick hadn’t understood.  Stephen couldn’t maintain eye contact and pay the required amount of attention to where his hand was landing.  When he looked up again, Nick was holding his watch up, poised and ready.  He held up three fingers, nodded, and lowered them one by one.  _Three, two, one, **set**_.  Stephen focused.  _Two minutes to go_. 

Connor was wailing, convulsing as he lived in a world consisting only of his hot, ferociously stinging bottom.  The first spanks had caused Connor’s bum to regain every bit of color it had lost since it’s morning under the hairbrush.  The pain picked up at the height from which it had eased down when Connor was last over Stephen’s knee.  It crested just that bit higher and did not diminish.  Stephen made sure that Connor lay there and felt the broiled, burning, searing, _scorch_ remain at its acme for the full two minutes allotted.  Nick’s arm slashing emphatically in his peripheral vision drew Stephen’s attention to his splayed hand. _Five. . .four. . .three. . .two. . .one_.  Stephen stopped spanking.  _It was finally over.  The whole wrenching day_. 

Nick was sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder.  Becker was on the floor, one hand on Stephen’s calf and one on top of the hand on Connor’s back.  Nick brought his arm around Stephen’s shoulders as Stephen lifted his leg off of Connor’s knees.  Together, they rearranged Connor’s legs so they stretched out across both their laps.  Becker accepted Connor’s arm from Stephen and moved it gently back up to Connor’s face, cradling the palm carefully in his own.  He moved the hand on Stephen’s calf up to take the tracker’s arm, cradling it against his own and rubbing his thumb just below the inside of the elbow.  Stephen let his head fall to the side to rest on Nick’s shoulder.  Connor was still sobbing.  The three of them sat and cradled Connor and each other, and listened to Connor continue to cry his eyes out. 

Stephen felt like he had after he’d run his first - and only - marathon.  Like his arms shouldn’t work, but they did.  He moved his hands toward Connor’s shorts, twisted into a knotty rope at his knees.  Becker’s hands were there beside his, easing the fabric straight and lifting it high as they inched it upward, doing their best to keep it clear of the blazing skin below.  Becker moved his hand to the side, helping to ease the elastic by Connor’s hip.  His other arm slid under Connor’s stomach and gently lifted up, giving them space to slide the underwear back into place with as little friction as possible.  While his teammates were replacing one part of Connor’s clothing, Nick worked to remove Connor’s boots and slide his jeans off completely.  The lad under their hands stirred and pushed at the couch cushions with shaking arms.  “ _Sorry_. . .so, so, sorry, _sorry_ , s,s,sorry, _so-or-rryyyy_.” 

Three men used each other for support as they rose to their feet, supporting a fourth among them and turning him so he could bury himself in his big brother’s chest.  “Steeph-ph. . .”

“Don’t try to talk.  We know.  It’s okay.”

“Let’s go lie down.  Don’t know about you lads but I need a good cuddle.”

The way back to the bedroom was hazy and torpid.  Becker, still the most able of all of them to remain functioning in a state of semi-collapse, directed movements.  He took Connor so Stephen could move into the center of the bed and lean against the headboard, spreading his knees at Becker’s urging.  Becker drew Connor with him onto the bed and guided him between Stephen’s legs to lie against his chest, head resting over his brother’s heart.  Becker twisted to retrieve the extra duvet folded at the end of the bed and returned with it to settle on Stephen and Connor’s right, tossing one end to Nick who was already settled on the left side.  _We really should make a rule about family cuddles post-spanking_ Stephen thought muzzily as his eyes slid closed.

 

 


	7. Smoothing the Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's calling the shots this time.

Connor woke a good two hours later, and found to his surprise that he was the first to do so.  It probably had something to do with his arm, which was numb where it was bent under him against Stephen’s chest.  Except for the point of pressure at his elbow, which ached insistently along with the hip supporting his weight against the mattress.  Connor did his best to tough it out for another ten minutes or so, before his bladder insisted that he move as well.  The easiest way to lever himself up would have been to push off against Stephen’s chest.  Connor didn’t want to do that to his sleeping friend, so it took twice as long to extricate himself from above and between his friends and ease out from under the duvet.  He thought he’d actually managed to get down the bed to Stephen’s feet without waking anyone as he began to crawl backward off the mattress.  Then the cold air introduced when the duvet was removed must have registered.  Stephen groaned and shifted, and Becks came upright in one smooth motion.  Come to think of it, he might have been awake and alert for a while.  Connor had read that soldiers developed those types of instincts.  Connor scrambled the rest of the way to his feet and kept his voice down, “Just going to the loo.  Don’t get up if you don’t want to.” 

Becker inclined his head in acknowledgement to the sounds of Scottish-accented grumbling now coming from the left side of the bed.  Connor hobbled off on numb legs to answer the call of nature.  The numbness and his groggy state went some ways to keeping the returning burn in his bottom from intruding too suddenly on his consciousness.  Unfortunately, by the time he was ready to return to the bedroom, his body and mind had woken up enough that it was becoming rapidly, distressingly apparent to Connor just how very, very sore he still was.  He hobbled along for an entirely different reason this time.  Connor hissed and puffed into the room and walked his hips straight into the end of the bed, leaning forward to rest his hands flat on the mattress.  He concentrated on keeping his head down and processing the signals his bum was sending to his brain.  This time around, Connor had no desire to reach back and feel how hot his bottom was.  He squeezed his eyes shut when the mattress shook under the strain of three athletic men exiting it at once.  “It had better be lotion and ice time now.”  That had sounded almost like a threat.  His voice sounded like a rocky, rutted access road.  _Bleck_. 

“Aye, absolutely.”

“I’m going to lie down and get these damn things off now.  Nick and Becks, you’ve got three minutes to start making me feel better.”  He had _so_ earned the right to give grumpy orders.  _And he wasn’t ready to take that kind of comfort from Stephen yet_.  Stephen left the room with hunched shoulders as Connor crawled back up into the center of the bed and repossessed a pillow.  Floor boards creaked out Stephen’s retreat to the kitchen.  Connor ignored the two soft voices conferring behind him, shoved his shorts down to his knees and flopped back down onto his stomach.  He wrapped his arms around the pillow and turned his head to watch the door.  Cutter and Becker took their time returning with wash cloths, a bowl of cold water, chemical ice packs wrapped in tea towels, and, of course, a big bottle of lotion. Connor sulked at them, “You’re late.” 

Both men shrugged.  “It’s Stephen’s place.  Took us a while to find what we needed.  He’s moved things around a bit since I was here last.” 

Becker wrinkled his nose in distaste as he examined Connor’s bum.  “Remind me never to do anything to earn the hairbrush.”  He thought for a second.  “Or the slipper.  Or more than one spanking.”

“I heartily second that. . . .  No pun intended.”  None of them had had any experience with the slipper. Connor refused to think _so far_.  He did smirk at the professor’s unintentional Hart-heart joke.  Come to think of it, Cutter might well have had. . . He would have been in school just around the time when it was being outlawed.  Connor could ask him about it some time. . . . or not, depending on how brave he felt.  And he didn’t think he really wanted to know how what Nick may have gotten as a kid compared to what they were getting now as adults.  _His bum hurt way too much for him to be thinking about this right now_.     

Becker seated himself on Connor’s far side.  “Lucky you gets twice as much soothing, twice as fast.  Benefit of a tag-team smacking.”

Connor turned to glare at his brother, “ _Lucky_?” 

Nick sighed, “Luck doesn’t play into it.  You get the soothing no matter what.”  He glowered across Connor’s back, “Becker knows that.”

“Sorry, Connor.”  _And now that was all three of them who had called into question how he would be comforted.  What **was** it about today?  Because whatever it was, it needed to just **stop** already_.

“Ice. Lotion. _Now_.”  Connor had no diplomacy left for this issue.  He tensed as cold, wet cloths were laid onto his bum from both sides.  Two hands rubbed his back.  One rested gently on his lower thigh, thumb rubbing lightly every now and then.  The silence got deeper and cozier as it stretched on.  Now-warm wash rags were lifted away.  Fresh cold ones replaced them lower down, gently draped over Connor’s sit spots and upper thighs.  He shivered as water evaporated off his uncovered skin.  There was shifting and then one blanket was there over his back and another on his legs.  Warm, weighty hands resumed their rubbing.  “Feels nice.”

“Good.”  Nick’s voice was warm, “Connor?”

“Hmmm?”

“You can come spend the night at my place, if you’d rather.”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”  Connor didn’t want to talk about it anymore than that right now.

Thankfully, Cutter and Becker knew when to drop something for once.  Becker lifted his hand off of Connor’s back. “Think we’re ready for the ice now.” 

Connor swallowed a yip as icy tea towel fabric touched down on both bottom cheeks.  “Oooooohhhhh.  Tha’s lovely.” 

Twin hums acknowledged his appreciation from above.  Cutter’s “Hmmmm” had a noticeable Scottish accent.  Between the weight of the blankets, the ice melting away some of the deep-seated heat in his bum, and the caring hands rubbing his back, Connor was getting hazy again.  There was a hand stroking through his hair.  He nuzzled into the touch.  It felt tender and loving in a way that the other caresses didn’t.  Connor really needed that right now.  The tepid cloths were removed from his lower curves.  The ice lifted away shortly thereafter.  Becker stretched out alongside him and reached his arm over Connor’s back in a loose hug.  Nick was humming a tune, the hand in Connor’s hair stroking in time to the soft lullaby.  Both men gave him a comforting squeeze as the ice was placed on his sit spots.  Tears leaked out of Connor’s eyes from sheer emotional exhaustion.  “Are we okay?” _Why hadn’t they said it before now_? 

“We’re okay, lad.  I forgive you.  I love you.  I’m proud of you for getting through all of that.”

“You’re forgiven, Connor.  I still love you.  Never stopped.  Oh. . .”

“Shhhh, there’s a lad.  We’re here.  You’re loved and wanted.  I promise. . . . there now, laddie, hush now, we’re here. . . .”

Connor finally let himself believe it as Nick crooned and Becker murmured assurances, both men snuggling close and rocking oh-so slightly from either side.  “Don’ leggo. . .” 

“Wasn’t planning to.”  Becker placed his hand on Connor’s chest and gently pulled him farther back into the cradle of his arms.  Connor clutched at the hand and tangled his fingertips in Nick’s shirt as the Scot leaned after him.  This time conscious to enjoy it, Connor soaked up the comfort and let it fill in all the hollows in his heart dug by uncertainty and guilt.  He loved these people and they loved him.  It was so good to have that love expressed through hugs and cuddles rather than scolding and a heavy hand. Nick slid his hand to the nape of Connor’s neck and rested his head on top Connor’s own.

“No rush, but are you ready for that lotion now?”

Connor considered.  “Hell, yes.  So long as someone keeps holding me.” 

“Mmmhmmm.  Becks and I will take turns then.  Here, pass me that blanket.  Lift up for just a second, lad.”  Cutter slipped the throw under Connor and worked it up and over his back, swaddling Connor in a warm cocoon and coaxing his head in against Nick’s chest.  He reached down and flipped the bottom end of the blanket clear of Connor’s bottom.  Becker moved away to fetch the lotion, tucking the second blanket on Connor’s legs more securely around him.  His older ‘action bro’ was back in a few seconds.  The mattress dipped as he seated himself by Connor’s hip.  The pop of the cap on the lotion bottle was clear and bright. 

“Here we go.  Might be a bit cold at first.”  A splurt heralded the first dollop of lotion arriving on Connor’s sore bum.  He whimpered as Becker’s light touch soothed the moisturizer into the hot skin.  Whimpers interspersed with sighs the more the viscous coating soaked in.  Cutter rubbed his back through the blanket and kept stroking his hair off of his forehead.  His mentor splayed his hand and eased Connor closer when Becker’s ministrations moved down to his seared lower bum and thighs.  Fortunately, it was only a few shaky gasps before the effects of the lotion were felt and Connor relaxed again under Becker’s gentle fingers.  After a generous coat had been applied to every centimeter of red skin, Becker shifted his weight to standing and gently flipped the blanket back to cover Connor’s bum. 

“Give that a while to sink in and then Nick can take his turn.  And I get my turn to hold you.”  Connor mock-grumbled when Becker reached down and mussed his hair. 

“Could use a hug from Stephen in a bit.”  Now that he was feeling more secure of his love and comfort, Connor could start to forgive their family member for his earlier devastating insensitivity. 

“Alright.  We’ll fetch him for you once I’ve seen to that second coat of lotion, then.” 

“Hmmm.  Not really fair of me to leave him out.”

“You do what you need to, Connor.  Stephen can deal with the natural consequences of his actions.”

“Know that.  Cutting him out’s not nice, though.  Doesn’t help make things better.  An’ family meeting’s not ‘til tomorrow.  S’long time to wait.”

“Aye, you have a point there.  We can all think about what to do instead while I get that second coat started.  Let go for a second.  There you are, Becker.  He’s all yours.”

Becker chuckled, “Little brother burrito.  Just what I’ve always wanted.  And he’s all mine.”

Connor could hear the hands on Cutter’s hips in his voice, “Now wait just a minute, you. . . .”

“Boys, boys, you need to share.  It’s not nice to keep my awesomeness all to yourself.  Now say sorry to each other and make up.”

The ‘boys’ in question snorted.  “Only reason you’re not getting tickled right now is because I’ve got lotion in my hands, Connor.”

“I’ve got my arms full too, but I think I can reach to poke him in the ribs if you want.”

“Nah, save it for later.”  Nick smiled down at the giggling lump under the blanket.  “Here we go with the lotion.”  Nick settled on the mattress, squirted a generous dollop onto his fingers and used his other hand to move the blanket to expose Connor’s bum once again.  He hummed an old song to himself as he glided his hand over the hot skin, making sure to go slow and steady.  He made it a point to be extra generous with the lotion when it came time to see to the tender undercurves and creases.  “There, that’s done.  You can have another coat tonight and again tomorrow.  More cooling off too, if you want.”  Cutter eased Connor’s shorts back into place and flipped the blanket back down. 

“I definitely want.  Don’t want to think about sitting in front of the ADD right now.  I got it fixed, you know.  And the locking device works!”

“We heard.  Well done.”

“You should be very proud of yourself there, lad.  I know we are.”  Connor flushed a happy pink. 

“Thanks.”  He settled down into the mattress and considered his next options.  “Get Stephen in here.  I want a hug.”

Nick picked up the discarded wash cloths and ice packs, stooping to balance the water bowl on one arm.  “One Stephen, on his way then.” 

Nick came into the kitchen to find Stephen standing and staring down at a mug on the counter.  Apparently getting stalled out in the middle of making tea when you had thorny, emotional stuff on your mind was a family trait.  He set the ice packs and the water bowl in the sink and piled the towels and cloths on the draining board.  “Connor’s asking for you.  He wants a hug.” 

Stephen shook his head, “I really messed things up.”

“Aye, you did.  He’s going to come back with me to stay the night.”  Nick came to stand next to his friend.  “Connor said it wasn’t fair to leave you out in the cold all by yourself until tomorrow’s family meeting, and he’d know best.”  He bumped Stephen’s shoulder.  “Come and give him his hug.” 

“Yeah, okay.  Thanks.”

“We’ll deal with it.  You don’t get to sulk off and be miserable about it alone.”

“I don’t sulk.”

“If you say so.”  Nick let them into the bedroom.  “Stephen’s here.  You going to stay wrapped up?”

Connor pushed off of Becker’s chest and wriggled out of the fabric cocoon. “Nah.”  He stumbled to his feet.  Stephen, Nick and Becker were glad to see that the movement only produced a moan and rapid blinking.  Connor stood and looked at Stephen, uncertain, even if he knew what he wanted.  “Umm, hug?”

“God, of course, Conn.”  Stephen wrapped his arms around Connor in the best, cuddliest bear hug he knew how to give.  He was so, so glad when Connor leaned right into it and hugged him back.  Stephen buried his nose in Connor’s hair and whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.  You meant well, but don’t do that to me ever again.  Got it?”

Stephen laughed humorlessly, “Got it.  Definitely.  I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

“And hope to . . . .”  Everyone in the room tensed.  “. . . Cross my heart.  And a figure eight. . . and . . . a, a dodecahedron.”

“Do you even know what that is?”

“A really bloody complicated shape?”

“It’s a 3D object actually.  But, yeah, close enough.  And you say _I’m_ the one who comes out with weird stuff.”

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me.” 

“Just so long as you appreciate my positive influence.”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, we do.”

“No fear there, mate.”

Becker cleared his throat. “Well, what are we doing for dinner?”

They decided to get pizza this time.  And chicken and chips.  Connor returned to his laptop to continue work on his report.  He got his phone out of his bag and frowned when he saw the number of texts.  “Does anyone else have like ten texts from Abby?”

“Oh, bugger.  She must be climbing the walls by now,” Cutter groaned.

“Why didn’t she just call?”  Becker, asked, practical as always.

“Didn’t want to risk interrupting things, most like.  Considerate of her.”  Connor was grateful he’s managed to find such an awesome sister.

“One of us should call her.  Before she sends out a search party. . . .or Jenny.  Or Lester.”  The four of them shuddered in unison.  Stephen gave a resigned sigh, “It shouldn’t be me who calls.” _He was still waiting for her to drive over just so she could slap him_. 

Connor volunteered, “I’ll do it.  She’ll want to speak to me anyway.”  He put his mobile to his ear.  “Hiya, Abby-sis. Yeah, I’m fine.  No, really.  _Of course_ I’m sore.  You do not want to get in this much trouble, _ever_.  Trust me.  Stephen and I are okay. . . mostly, anyway.  No, I don’t know. . . .”  He wandered off into the lounge still talking.

Stephen exhaled.  “If we call in our order to the pizza place and the chip shop, I can go pick up from both places.”

“That’d be nice.  We ought to work out a time for the meeting tomorrow once we’ve eaten.”  Postponing hard conversations until after a meal was apparently the order of the day.  Days.  Cutter shook his head.  It would be nice if someone could get into nice, straightforward trouble next.

“’Nice, straightforward trouble’?  I don’t think that exists.”  Becker was smirking at him. 

Nick had to concede the point. Stephen was looking amused as well.  “Case of you know it when you see it.  If it exists.”

“It doesn’t.”  Becker picked up his mobile to order their food. 

Connor got off with Abby as Stephen was leaving to pick up the food.  They grazed shoulders in passing.  In the time it took Stephen to return, Connor finalized his report and Nick and Becker got their own laptops out to make headway on the never-ending stream of email and paperwork that came with working for the government.  Dinner was consumed with silent concentration, with all four men eating standing up in deference to Connor.  They all realized they were ravenous as the first bites of greasy, fried, battered, cheesy deliciousness registered on their palates. By the end of the meal, there was not a crumb in sight.  Cutter broke the satiated silence.  “I’m going to ring Abby and put her on speaker.  We can set a time for tomorrow.  And then Connor and I are going home to bed.” 

Stephen waved Becker off and got up to clean away the leftover cartons.  Once Abby was on the line, they quickly agreed to meeting at Cutter’s house after breakfast.  Apparently, Abby had spoken to Lester, who was now insisting that they all take the morning off, to make sure they were rested and ready to hit the ground running when they returned to work.  She had used the excuse of needing Stephen and Becker to play sick nurse to get the ‘non-invalid’ members of their team included in the extra time off.  Abby rang off with a yawn and Cutter and Connor started packing up to leave.  Connor glanced at Becker, “You coming with?  We’ll drop you back at yours, if you don’t want to spend the night at Nick’s.”

“No, I’ll crash here.  I can get my stuff from Nick in the morning.  Shut it, Hart.  I’m staying.” 

Connor nodded at that and smiled at Becker.  He and Nick left with a round of hugs.  Stephen closed the door behind them and stood for a moment.  Becker came up behind him.  “I’m for an early night.  I assume I’m on the couch?”

“There’s a pull-out couch in the box room.  Takes up the whole room, but it’s comfortable.  Just dump whatever’s on it into the hall.  I’ll get you some sheets.”  They unfolded the sofa and made the bed in silence.  Stephen wished his brother goodnight and turned to leave.  He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “You’re still part of the family.  I love you.  Sleep well.”  _That was the first time Stephen could remember Becks saying it to him.  He’d known before, but_. . . . “Thanks.  Love you too.  Sleep well.”  Climbing into bed under a duvet still wet from Connor’s tears was not nearly as bad as it could have been.  Stephen Hart closed his eyes and waited for morning to come.


	8. Re-Integration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the second family meeting, people are still on the hook, and some of them don't want off.

Stephen woke before the alarm, getting up and making himself follow his regular routine: coffee, run a couple miles, come back, drink some water, shower, more coffee, eat breakfast.  Or at least a protein bar.  Becker was also an early riser, and was just coming back from his own run when Stephen was lacing up his trainers to start out on his.  Stephen directed him to the laundry so he could give his clothes a quick wash and avoid having to put back on sweat-soaked garments out of the shower.  The two of them moved around each other in silence, exchanging only the words necessary to point out the coffee pot, borrow a desking gown, get extra towels, ask what flavor of protein bar Becker preferred.  Stephen glanced up at the clock, “We should go ahead and head over.  Do you want a coffee for the road?” 

“No, thanks.”  They filed to the car in silence.  A few blocks away from Stephen’s flat, Becker cleared his throat awkwardly.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like I screwed up, Connor paid the price and I want to find a way to make up for it.”  He kept doing that; he should have learned his lesson after Helen. 

“This has nothing to do with Helen.”  _Was he really that transparent_?  And since when was Becker one for engaging people about their feelings?  He’d always thought that Becker was even more uncomfortable with that sort of thing than he and Nick. 

“You do talking about feelings now?”

“We’re all learning new tricks in this family.  Don’t change the subject.”

“Helen . . . was a manipulative bitch.  But I let her manipulate me.  And instead of facing up to it, I hid the affair from Nick for years, and then he found out at the worst time possible.  I can’t stop hurting the people I care about.”

“What happened between you and Helen, and you and Nick, has nothing at all to do with what happened between you and Connor yesterday.  Stop distracting yourself from the issue here by beating yourself up for something that’s in the past.  It’s how you’re behaving in the present you need to worry about.” 

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“Not in my nature.”

They were almost to Nick’s.  Becker was right, he needed to focus on the here and now.  “How much of this is going to be about me and my stupid mouth, do you think?”

“Enough.”  The conversation lapsed into silence.  They were lucky to find a parking space only a block from the house.  Becker frowned as the approached the door, “Should we have brought something for breakfast?”

“No one said anything.  Hi, Nick.  Abby here yet?”  Stephen braced himself.  Abby would have been holding that slap in reserve for him. 

Cutter stepped aside so they could enter, “She and Connor are in the kitchen.  There’s croissants and muffins.  Coffee’s on the counter by the microwave. Help yourselves.”

Stephen was gratified to see Connor seated at the table as they came into the kitchen.  He still had two very fluffy pillows underneath him and he couldn’t quite sit still, but he looked yards better than he had the night before.  Connor popped to his feet when he saw Stephen and Becker.  “I’ll get the coffee.”  Not up to sitting for very long just yet then.  They should have expected that, but then again none of them exactly had experience with the aftermath of a double smacking, plus a double reminder.  The other Cutter who’d visited them hadn’t gotten around to that kind of detail before he’d had to leave. 

Abby stood and came around the table to stand in front of Stephen.  “The only reason I’m not slapping you right now is because Connor asked me not to.  You do anything like that again, and Connor can say what he likes, I’m letting you have it.” 

“Got it.”  Connor frowned at their sister as he set Becker and Stephen’s coffee on the table, “You can’t go around slapping people whenever they upset you, Abs.”

Cutter nodded emphatically.  “No slapping anyone.  I don’t care what they do, you’re not to take your temper out on them like that.  No, you don’t get to argue with me about this.  You being a girl doesn’t mean you get a free pass on hitting your brothers.”  Cutter matched Abby glare for glare.  Abby broke first.  She looked up at them from under her lashes, shame-faced.  “Okay, no slapping.  Sorry, Stephen.”

“It’s fine.  I get where you’re coming from.” 

Becker inclined his head toward the table.  “Shall we get started?  It sounds like we’ve got one amendment to the rules already.”

All five of them shuffled to take their seats and help themselves to pastries.  Connor reversed his chair and knelt on the seat.  Cutter cleared his throat.  “Alright, this family meeting is now in session.”  He leaned back to reach the notepad and pen behind him on the counter.  “I’ll take notes.  We can type them up later.  The first order of business is to decide if someone is allowed ice and lotion after a smacking, if they’ve got another smacking still coming to them.”  He sat back and folded his arms.  “Thoughts?”

Abby surprised them by being the first to speak.  “Lotion but no ice?” 

Becker nodded.  “That seems fair.  No more than one coat though.  There can always be more time between the smackings if need be.”

“How long are we talking about?”  Connor wanted to know.

“No more than a day.  But if it’s going to be that spread out, then whoever’s being punished deserves to have things go back to normal in between.  A sore bottom ought to be enough to remind them that they’re still in trouble.”

“It’d be unfair, not to mention cruel, to insist they be miserable focusing on what they did wrong the whole time.”  Becker agreed with Nick. 

Abby nodded.  “That sounds about right.  Horrible too.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “And, yes, I know that’s the point.  You don’t have to say it.”  All eyes turned to the one person who hadn’t spoken yet.

“Stephen?”  Abby prodded.  Stephen opened his mouth, “I don’t know if I should . . .”

“Oh, for god’s sake, man.  Of course you get an opinion!” Nick glared at his friend in exasperation.  Stephen held his hands up in surrender.

“That sounds fair.”  That hadn’t taken nearly as long as he’d thought it would to hash out. 

Cutter leaned forward, “That’s settled then.  One coat of lotion in between, nothing else.  And no more than a day between spankings.”  He wrote down the new rule on the notepad.  Stephen glanced around the table as Nick made the last marks.

“Um, before we move on to anything else. . . . About what I did yesterday. . . .changing things on Connor in the middle like that.  How are you going to deal with it?” 

Abby frowned.  “Should we be dealing with it?  Don’t get me wrong, I still think it was insensitive and horrible, Stephen.  But Connor’s forgiven you.  And it isn’t against the rules.”

Stephen shook his head.  “I still feel bad about it.”

“It could easily fall under ‘if you think what you’re about to do might be a problem, don’t do it’.”  Nick didn’t seem nearly as eager as Abby to let it go.  Stephen’s bum twinged as he remembered Cutter’s glower from yesterday.  Unfortunately, he agreed with that glower whole-heartedly.

“I didn’t stop to think about it.”  He squared his shoulders.  “I still think I need to pay for it somehow.”

Becker thought, “A reminder smack?  I don’t know that you’ve earned a real smacking.”  He looked at Abby, “That’s. . . .”

“I know what it is, Becker.  Connor filled me in.”  She glanced between Connor, Cutter and Becker.  “I think all of us ought to be involved.”  She took a breath and got ready to defend her corner, “A minute from each of us, over his shorts.”  Abby waited for the push back.  There wasn’t any.

“That seems fair, lass.”

“As long as we don’t go all that hard.  It’s supposed to be a reminder, not a full-on smacking.  Even if Stephen won’t be bare.”  Connor was proving to be very reasonable when it came to his own distress.

“I agree on both counts.”  Four pairs of eyes turned to regard their tracker.

“Stephen?”  Cutter raised his eyebrows. 

Stephen nodded.  “Yeah, that’s fair.  I’m sorry I put Connor through that, and dragged everyone else into it to pick up the pieces.”  His little brother and sister had just as much right to remind him how they deserved to be treated when under his care.  As much as the thought of their helping to smack him, even over his shorts, made him cringe.  They needed to get started before he could dwell too long on that thought and begin to balk.  “Where do you all want me?”

Cutter stood, “You can bend over the arm of the couch.  Let’s get this done.”  They all trooped into the lounge behind Stephen, who didn’t bother to ask before he shoved his trousers down to his knees and bent over the arm of the couch, folding his arms under his chin on the cushion.  Nick kept control of proceedings.

“Becker goes first.  Then Abby.  Then Connor.  I’ll finish things up.  I’ll keep time for you three, and then Becker can keep time when it’s my turn.  Half a minute between each of us.  Stephen, tell us what this reminder is about.”

Stephen was feeling vulnerable and embarrassed in this position, his bum sticking right up in the air.  The perfect target for his family to smack.  He closed his eyes against the urge to squirm.  “I’m not allowed to change how a smacking goes during and I’m especially not allowed to change how comfort works.  Everyone should be able to count on comfort being the same no matter what.  It was selfish of me to do that to Connor.  I’m sorry.” 

“That sounds right.  Becker?”  Stephen’s brother stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his lower back.  “Remember you have a responsibility to us and yourself to stick to the way we agreed punishments would work.  Nick?”

“And. . . begin.”  There was no time for Stephen to brace himself as a flurry of swats flew over the seat of his shorts.  And kept right on at the same pace down to his thighs and back up again.  Stephen squeezed his prickling eyes shut.  _Ow, ow, oooww.  God, that smarts_.  He curled his hands into fists and fought not to whimper under the continuous onslaught.  “Ten seconds,” Nick murmured.  _You can do this, Stephen_.  Becker’s hand lifted and walloped his bum _hard_.

“Ah! Ah, ah, Ow! Ouch!” So much for being stoic and quiet.

“And. . .time.”  Becker’s hand rested on his stinging bum.  “It’s supposed to make you react.  You have just as much right as Connor or any of us to cry and squirm.  Quit trying to be the exception to the rule.  That’s why you’re here in the first place.”  He patted Stephen’s bottom before stepping back.

Stephen ducked his head and felt the back of his neck flush with shame.  “You’re right.”  He heard Becker’s feet retreat and someone else step up behind him. _Abby_.  Stephen gave a wet groan.  _He’d agreed he deserved this.  He was lucky to have younger family members willing to step up to the plate and do their part._   “Remember that you don’t get to throw everything up in the air because it’s difficult for you.  It’s difficult for us too, but we go with it and trust you to see us through it.  You need to take responsibility for that, Stephen.” 

Stephen gave a miserable, teary whine. “I know, sis.  I’m so sorry.” 

“I know.  I don’t want to do this, but I’m going to.”  Abby put her hand on his back.

“And. . .go.”  His kid sister’s hand cracked down on his bum.  _Yeowch_!  She had a damn good swing.  Abby lifted her hand and snapped it down very firmly. And again, and again.  Stephen gave over and let himself shake with high-pitched tears.  A minute was a long time when your bum was being set on fire. 

“Time.”  Abby lifted her hand off his back.  She patted his bum affectionately as she stepped back.  Stephen squirmed.  Another set of feet approached.  Connor.  _Oh, god_.  Blessedly, Connor said nothing to him about what to remember.  They both knew very well why Stephen was bent over the couch. 

“Get ready, Connor.  One minute.  And. . .go.”  Connor employed the same method as Becker, except he swatted at the same spot for a good five seconds before moving on to warm the next.  Stephen didn’t even try to keep quiet now.  He turned his face to the side and let them hear him cry.  “Aauuuooooh.  Ooohhh, I’m sorry, Connor.  I’m aaahh sorry. Aaahh!”  The last in response to Connor’s hand applying itself to his right sit spot.  Then the left, and his upper thighs, right and left.

“Ten seconds.”  The smacks became just that much sharper, moving at speed up one cheek and back down the other, then around again.  Connor finished with a hearty slap to each of Stephen’s sit spots.  Stephen buried his tear-wet face in his hands and tried to catch his breath.  _His bum was stinging like mad_. 

Connor retreated. 

“My turn.  Becker?”  Nick stepped up and pressed down firmly on Stephen’s back.  “Last one.  Remember we don’t make it harder for ourselves by changing how things work in the middle.  No matter how much we want to.”

“Ready. . .Set. . .Go!”  Nick’s hand popped against Stephen’s shorts, rising and falling in no discernable pattern.  He didn’t think Nick was swatting him particularly hard, but his bum was smarting enough by now that it didn’t make a difference.  Stephen Hart kicked his legs and sobbed.  _I’ll remember, I’ll remember.  I’m so, so sorry. It hurts_. 

“And. . .stop!” 

Nick’s hands lifted away, only to reach down to seize Stephen’s trousers and pull them back up from around his knees.  He put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder and pulled, “Up you come.  It’s over now.”  Stephen wobbled upright and right into a hug.  “That’s it, all paid for.  You’re forgiven.  We love you and we’ll help you to get things right.” 

Stephen pressed his face into Nick’s shoulder as the Scot rubbed his shuddering back.  After a minute, Cutter pushed him away.  “There are some other people who need to hug you.  Here.”

 Abby wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.  Stephen curled himself down around her in relief.  “I forgive you, Stephen.  I love you.  I know you meant well.  We’re okay, promise.”  Stephen gave her a watery smile when they pulled apart.  She reached up and pressed a tissue to his face.  “You look as bad as I did the other night.”  Abby smiled teasingly, “It’ll be gone by the morning, you’ll see.” 

Stephen laughed and bent to squeeze her in another hug.  “I’ll hold you to that, Abs.” 

Becker tapped Abby on the shoulder, “May I cut in?”  Abby stepped sideways and then Stephen was enveloped in a strong hug by the oldest of his younger brothers.  “I forgive you.  Still love you.  Now let it _go_ already, Hart.”  Becker shoved him away and practically threw him at Connor. 

His baby brother gave a wonderful bear hug.  “I already forgave you.  You need to forgive yourself.  I love you and I won’t stop.  And you’re _still_ a great big brother.”  Stephen returned Connor’s hug with all he had, buried his face in Connor’s hair and let the tears leak out.  After four minutes or so, Connor and Stephen separated.  Connor reached into his pocket, “I’m not usually a handkerchief guy either, but. . .here.”  Stephen gratefully took the square of fabric from Connor’s hand and wiped his face.  Post-crying face did not feel good. 

“I’m going to go wash my face.  I’ll meet you back at the table.  I want another of those croissants.”


	9. Laugh and Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five ridiculous idiots who call themselves family.

Once Stephen had thoroughly cleaned his face with cold water, and carefully patted it dry, he reached behind him to feel his bum.  Yep, that was definitely warm.  Still stung a bit too.  Sitting wasn’t going to be great, but he’d manage.  It had been a hell of a long reminder, though.  Four whole minutes to be exact.  And if this was what a reminder felt like, with lighter swats and his shorts on, then Stephen was _definitely_ going to remember in the future.  He remembered with a smile what Abby had said.  That smile morphed into a frown.  It occurred to Stephen that he had gone easy on Abby the other day, despite trying not to.  He’d have to watch out for that in the future, and give Nick and Becker a heads up so they could do it too.  Nick was right, Abby didn’t get a pass because she was a girl in a family of boys.  Lodging that thought firmly in his memory, Stephen turned and left the bathroom.  If he didn’t hurry, there’d be no croissants left.  Come to think of it, another muffin would be good too.

Stephen snorted when he saw the pillow on his chair, but he didn’t protest.  He did snatch the orange ginger muffin Nick was reaching for out from under his hand.  And popped it into his mouth before Nick could get a sound out in protest.  “You’re lucky that wasn’t the last one, King of Thieves.”  _There really was no way they were ever going to let that go_.  Stephen smirked as Abby grabbed the last orange ginger while Nick was busy mock-glaring at him.  Nick turned to reach back toward the pastry plate and sputtered indignantly when he realized he’d missed his chance.  Stephen took a raspberry croissant for himself and put one on Nick’s plate as well.  He needed to find out where Nick had gotten these.  They were delicious. 

Stephen gave it a couple minutes before he said, “Don’t we have more things to discuss for Nick’s list?”

Nick put his coffee down and retrieved pen and paper.  Abby cocked her head, “Like what?”

“Like making sure we’re all on the same page as to how a smacking goes, and comfort.”

Abby scrunched up her face, “Shouldn’t that be obvious?”   

“It certainly wasn’t obvious yesterday.  Or not obvious enough.”  Becker fixed the blond with a firm look.  Apparently he was starting to get the same suspicions about Abby getting off easy that Stephen had.  And that she might be playing them a bit to get away with things.  Stephen glanced over and caught Cutter watching them with a speculative look.  _Okay, we’re definitely having a conversation about this sometime soon.  No more letting ‘darling Abby’ off the hook_. 

“You know, this whole thing takes way more talking than I’d have thought when we agreed to it.  Sounded pretty straightforward then.”

Nick snorted, “Tell me about it, lad.  And I’m the one who had the whole long run-down from his other self about the finer points.”

“Well, hopefully we can work things out now so we won’t have to talk about it nearly so much in the future.”

“I’ll drink to that.”  Connor held his mug up in a toast, and grinned happily when the others joined in to clink earthenware with a chorus of chuckles.

“Okay, so. . . .”

Cutter tapped the table for emphasis, “I think everyone knows this, but it’s worth making sure.  In this family, you get smacked on the bare.  If it’s a reminder, your bum stays covered, and it’s not as hard or as long.  Everyone clear?”  The other grimaced in unison but they all nodded in assent.

Since they were jumping in at the deep end, Stephen plowed ahead.  “I washed Abby and Connor’s mouths out for lying.  When I talked to you two about it before, you didn’t have any problems with it.  Is that going to be standard procedure now?”

Abby hunched over her mug, “You told me that if I’d just lied about something small, I’d only be getting a reminder.  That I got my mouth washed out and a smacking because I lied about Connor being hurt, and what happened at the anomaly.”

“The smacking was for helping to hide an injury.  Okay, and for lying to my face about it.”

Becker cut in before things could descend into a contentious, and totally unhelpful, post-mortem, “The question is, will it be the same going forward?”

Cutter was the first to break the considering pause. “The way I see it, Stephen was right.  A reminder smack for lying about something important enough to be a problem.”  He shook his head, “We’re not talking about fibbing and taking half an hour off when someone asks you how much longer before you finish a report.  Outright lying about things that you should be able to just tell other people.  Even if they make you look bad.  Like not having a report in on time.  Or forgetting to put your kit away.”  He surveyed the others, making sure they were nodding along before continuing.  “Lying about the same thing over and over, or a pattern of lies within a short time, that’ll get you a full-on smack.  And your mouth washed out, depending on what you’ve lied about.”

“That one needs to be broken down more, then.”  Connor narrowed his eyes in thought.  “So, soap and a full smack for lying a lot about something that could effect important stuff, like not taking care of your kit?  Instead of just forgetting from time to time and not wanting to admit it, I mean.”

Becker nodded, “He’s got a point.  Repeatedly lying gets you a smack when the reminders don’t seem to be working.  Soap should be for when the lie is about something that could cause real problems.  Like failing to properly maintain your kit.  Or skipping a medical exam.”

“Or lying just to keep yourself out of trouble,” Stephen put in.

Cutter nodded his assent, “Aye.  Or not getting a vaccination.  Anything like that.  Soap and a reminder if it’s only the once.  If you lie about it more than once, or to more than one person, or you plan to lie about it ahead of time, then it’s definitely a smack and soap both.”

“Agreed.”

Connor wondered if anyone else was going cross-eyed with all the details.

“Sounds fair.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Abby sighed.  “Is that all?”

“There’s deliberate lying about breaking major rules, or conspiring with someone else to lie about it.”  Stephen wanted this point clear.

“We already said. . .”

“We did already say, and you’re not going to get extra, lass.  But Stephen has a point.  Lying about, or helping someone else to lie – and that includes hiding something as well as not saying anything,” Nick was going to be clear about this too. “. . . And lying about injuries, or doing something dangerous,”

“Or doing or not doing something that could put other people in danger.” Now Becker was on the bandwagon.

“Aye, that too.  Any of those sorts of lies.  That’ll earn you a session with the soap and a good smack.  How hard can be up to whoever’s dealing with it.  But it’ll just be for the lying.  The doing something dangerous, or whatever else you’ve lied about, that’s another matter, to be dealt with on its own.”

Abby had rallied and was going to join them, if she couldn’t. . . well, if she couldn’t get them to go with a more lenient version.  “So if you lie about something that might lead to injury or danger in the future. . .  Say Stephen says that he replaced the tranquilizer darts when he didn’t, and then admits he didn’t and replaces them in a couple hours, or he says something while we’re kitting up, so we can work around it. . .”  The others nodded.  “. . . Then it’s soap and a smack.”  More nods.  “But if you lie about something and then go do it, or do it and then lie about it, or you don’t tell someone when it’s about to cause a problem . . .” _Damn but this was getting convoluted_ “. . . Then it’s at least soap and a good smack, and probably more?”

“Yep.”  Stephen made sure to pop the ‘p’.  He had noticed who Abby had chosen for her example. 

Nick frowned sternly at their youngest.  He had noticed as well.  “Give over, Abby.  Stephen isn’t your enemy here.” 

Abby sighed and managed to look remorseful, “Right, I know that.  Sorry.”  Connor reached over and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.  She smiled at him and melted the rest of the way.  “Sorry.  I was being a brat about it.  I promise I’ll try not to do that in future.”

“S’okay, Abby.  We can ‘brat-check’ each other.”  Connor ran that back.  “I mean, neither of us are brats.  We’re both very mature.  Fully grown, responsible adults, who. . .”

“Connor.  Stop talking.”  Abby managed to make it sound wholly affectionate and not a bit annoyed.

“None of us think either of you is a brat, Connor. You’re just younger, and you’ve got less experience, and,” Stephen buried his head in his hands.  “Now I’m doing it.”

Nick chuckled, earning him glares from all three of Abby, Connor and Stephen.  “No one is this family is a brat.  We all just have attitude to spare, and we’re allowed to.  And everyone else is allowed to call us on our attitude.”  He held up his hands.  Everyone was staring at him expectantly.  They were going to be staring for a very long time if they thought he was going to say it.  _And it wasn’t fair for him not to, no matter how mulish he was feeling about it.  Damn his sense of fair-play. It could be bloody inconvenient_.  “Fine.  Yes.  I’ve got it worse than most.  Now drop it already, you bloody arses.” 

Becker smirked with his teeth showing. “Whatever you say.  You’re the patriarch after all.  With all your many, many years of accumulated wisdom.”

“Don’t push it.” 

The smirks around the table intensified.  Abby had her hand over her mouth to stifle her snickering. 

“Oh, so we’re _not_ allowed to call each on our attitudes then?  By fiat of our ‘dear old professor’?”

“Yep.  Family’s a dictatorship, didn’t we tell you?  With grand ol’ Uncle Nicky ruling over it with his dinosaur bone of doom.”

 “Oooh.  Don’t get me started on the ammonites, bloody ‘orrible, they are. . .” Stephen opened his eyes as wide as they would go and gave a very theatrical shudder.

“Now look you lot. . .”

“Now, see here, you young whippersnappers. . .” Becker did a fair rendition of a Scottish accent as he wagged his finger under Abby’s nose.  Who knew his sense of humor extended to silly? 

Stephen’s lower lip protruded as he turned big, shining eyes on Connor, “He called us ‘bloody arses.’ Tha’s _mean_ , Connor.”

“There, there, mate.  Connor’ll sort him out for you, don’t you worry.”  Connor patted Stephen’s head as the latter hid his snickers against the former’s shoulder.

“Now, boys.  You know Uncle Nicky’s getting on in years.  We just have to hide all the fossils from him and we’ll be fine.  Then we can do whatever we please.  I’m starting by having a night on the town at one of those new-fangled ‘jazz’ clubs that’s all the rage, who’s with me?”

“There, you see, Stephen?  No more ammonites.  And there’ll be booze!  And girls!”

Stephen’s head came up, “Girls?  You promise, Becks?  Only Uncle Nicky hasn’t let me near any girls for ages. . .”

Connor rubbed his hands together, “This is going to be _fun_!  D’you think they had fun in Uncle Nicky’s day?”

“Alright, you’ve made your point. . .”

They were all grinning like loons now.  Stephen shook his head, “Nooo, Connor.  ‘E only has fun when ‘e’s digging up more fossils for to ‘ave ‘round the house.”

“Not that we ever get to touch ‘em.”  Abby sat back, folded her arms and did her best to glare at Nick. 

“But if we hide his stuff, and he pops a vein and keels over, who’s going to give us money for sweeties an’ stuff?”  This had just now occurred to Becker.

“Huh.  Hadn’t thought of that one.  Oooh!  Maybe if we ask real nice before we hide the fossils. . .”  Connor turned a face that would have done the most cherubic of toddlers proud on Nick.  “Please, Uncle Nicky, may we have some money for sweets?  I promise we’ve been good.  Did all our chores. . .”

Stephen batted his eyelashes sweetly, “We mucked out the mammoth pen, and dusted all the bones, and did all our homework for Mr. Lester, and scrubbed the floors, and we weren’t late home, not once!  Pleeeeeaase, Uncle Nicky?”

“Pleeeease?  We’ve been so, so good, Uncle Nicky.  We made you your haggis.  An’ we climbed all the way up Ben Nevis and back again to get the sheep to make it from. . .”  Abby deployed her absolute best gamin look. 

“And grew ta barley, an’ harvested it, an’ threshed it, an’ dried it in ta cellar, all ‘tween gettin’ the cattle in ‘fore dawn an’ cleanin’ ta hearth ‘fore school. . .”  Becks could do a very good ‘poor ‘ickle laddie’ when he put his mind to it. 

“Pleeeeeeease. . .”  Big cow eyes leaned closer.

“Pleeeease, Uncle Nicky. . .”  Begging hands presented themselves in front of beseeching faces.

“Pleeease, oh pleeeease. . .” Nick shoved his chair back as he stood to his full height and put his hands on his hips. 

“Pleeeease, we’ve been such good bairns, Uncle Nicky. . .”

“So, so good.  Pleeeeease. . .”  He glared down at the four ridiculous idiots he called his family.  “Cheeky little. . .”

Nick Cutter couldn’t do it.  He collapsed onto the table with laughter.  He wheezed, waving his hand as he thudded back into his chair.  He managed to gasp out, “I’ll, I’ll show you, show you ammon-ammonites, and a, a sarcop-cop-copt-tery-rygian too, an’ you k-keep thi’ up!”

Abby, Connor, Stephen and Becker were laughing just as hard now.  They still managed to stumble out of their chairs and kneel on the floor, raise their hands in supplication and chorus, “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaassssssssssssse, Uncle Niiiiickyyyyy.”

Nick couldn’t get anything out around his laughter for a good two minutes, in which he alternated between holding his ribs and patting at the heads of the ‘bairns’ leaning against each other for support on the floor.  “Alright, alright, sweeties it is. Extra pocket money too.  Seeing as you’ve all been sooooo gooooood.”  He broke off into wheezing snorts.  “But absolutely no night out on the town.  I won’t have Abigail and Stephen’s tender morals corrupted by that terrible _dancing_ they’re doing now-a-days.” He tsked sadly.  “And Connor and Becks, you’d only encourage them.  You know Stephen’s much too young to be around that sort of ‘modern’ nonsense.  Abby has Rex to help her resist untoward advances from the likes of those tawdry Whitehall paper-pushers.. But Stephen . . . A virtuous, untutored, innocent, _precious_ , young lad like our Stephen, left alone among those wily lasses down in the village. . .”  He shook his head at the thought.  “I expect you two to set a good example for the wee ones and promote good, clean, pastimes.” Nick shook a trembling finger down at the giggling heap, “Playing with your prehistoric creature flashcards should be fun enough!”  Nick leaned back in his chair and dropped both hands to run his palms over what he could reach of his friends, “Och, but you’re all bonnie, good bairns for all that.  So you can have your sweeties.” 

They all lay there and chuckled for a good while.  When everyone had taken quite a few deep breaths as they held their aching sides, Nick helped pull Connor and Stephen to their feet, then assisted Abby as Becker levered himself off the floor with the help of the table edge.  As everyone was turning to wobble back to their seats, Nick saw his chance.  His hands shot out to land swats on four bums one after the other. “But I’ve still got those ammonites, and don’t you lot forget it!”

Four very gratifying ‘Ow!’s accompanied the sweetness of getting the last word.  Nick bent to retrieve the pen and paper from under the table, “Don’t even think about it.  Cheeky sods.”

“Who?”

“Us?” Stephen and Becker made a good double act.

Nick rolled his eyes, “Yes, you.  Now, as the acknowledged _team leader_ , I am calling this family meeting back to order.”

“He almost said it. . .”

“Focus, Abby.  We do have to go to work today.”

“Yes. . . _Nick_.”

“I want to get this done now so we don’t have to do it after work too.  Less fun, more rules.”  Becker had a very good point.  He launched proceedings with an executive summary.  “If I remember where we were before, it was a reminder for lying about stuff.  Soap for lying about stuff that affects other people or their ability to count on you, and for lying to keep yourself out of trouble.  A smack if the reminder didn’t work, or you lied more than once.  Both for lying about important stuff.  Both and probably more for premeditated lying about important stuff, or deliberately planning to hide  something.”

Stephen concentrated, “. . . Yeah, that sounds like all of it.  So that’s lying dealt with.  Right?”

“Seems like.  I’ve got nothing else.”

Connor and Abby shook their heads.  Nick drew a line in the notebook.  “While we’re on it, anything else that gets you a reminder?”

Everyone considered.  “Maybe if it’s something you forgot, and really shouldn’t have?”  Everyone looked at Abby.  “I’m not saying this right.  If you forget something, or there’re extenuating circumstances, but it’s a big deal. . .maybe we discuss it?  And then decide?”  She frowned and turned to Stephen, “I’m not bringing this up to have a go at you.” 

“I know.  But it’s a good example.”  He turned to face the rest of the table.  “So there’s a standard caveat next to ‘unless there are extenuating circumstances’ that if there’s a question, we discuss if a reminder’s appropriate?”

“Yeah.  Procedure is to check procedures beforehand.  If in doubt.”  Connor wrinkled his nose, “This is getting worse than the fine print in the Apple TOS.  Do we even have this many rules worked out for dealing with the anomalies?”

“No, but that’s a very good idea, Connor.” 

“I’m totally face-palming for England in my head right now.”

Becker face-palmed in real life and added in a head shake for good measure.  Connor guppied at him.  Abby giggled, “We’re not all total luddites, Connor.  We _do_ know some stuff.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Speaking of procedures. . .” _This is worse than a department meeting_ , Nick thought.  “Lotion between multiple smacks, but no ice.  You get as much comfort as you need after, unless something urgent interrupts.  We can’t control when an anomaly appears.”

“You get forgiven after.  And no throwing anyone out of the family.”  Nick rose and came around the table to hug Connor.  And then Stephen. 

“I can’t control what Lester does.  But I’ll fight your corner as hard as I can if it comes to it.  And on the team or off it, _no one_ is _ever_ leaving this family.” 

Stephen spoke quietly, “One last thing.  If we’re thinking of changing the procedures for some reason, we discuss it, with as many people as possible, _before_ the punishment.”

Everyone nodded emphatically.  Becker had another last thing, “If someone says ‘no,’ we don’t try and bully them into it.  We find another way to deal with it.  And we hold each other accountable for forgiving and comforting after, the same as always.”  He rose and walked over to put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder.  “You did an excellent job of that with Connor.  You made sure we didn’t bulldoze him, even when he was pushing you away.  Very well done.”  Stephen blinked back tears. 

“Thanks.  I think I needed to hear that.  Connor did just as much work.  We were really hard on him, and he went ahead and admitted he’d earned all of it.  Out loud.  And he trusted us to do it.” 

“I wasn’t. . .”  Cutter reached over and put his hand over Connor’s.  “Aye, you were.  You did very, very well.  You’re one of the bravest people I know.”  They waited as Connor got his breathing back under control. 

Stephen turned to Abby, “And Abby was just as brave, being in trouble for the first time and trusting me with it.”  His sister squeezed his hand with shiny eyes.  “You’re a great big brother.  Even with the smacking.  And I’m sure it’ll get easier with time.”

Cutter shared a glance with Stephen, “If what the other Cutter told us was any indication, it definitely will.”

“The other Connors did seem pretty well settled.  Not happy about it, but. . . okay.  Secure.”

Becker nodded, “From your report, it seemed like they’d all gotten started with all of it much earlier.  Right after when the team formed, for some of them.  Makes sense they’d be farther along the curve than us.  Learning curve’s still not pleasant.” 

Stephen smiled, “We should all be proud of ourselves for sticking it out together.”

Cutter raised his coffee mug, “Cheers to that!”

Five mugs clinked emphatically.  “Connor needs more lotion before we go back to work.”

“What she said.  As the great Abby-sis has commanded, make it so!” Connor had been waiting years to use Captain Picard’s commanding finger in a proper context. 

“Aye-aye, lotion at warp speed ahead!”  Cutter knew some things too.  “Shall we, Number One?”  He gestured for Stephen to preceed him.  Making Connor make that face was just _fun_.

Abby got up alongside them.  “Becks and I will do the washing up.  Then I’m off to get a yoga class in before work.  I’ll see you guys there after lunch?” 

“I’ll go ahead too.  Some of the guns could do with cleaning.”  Waves and okays of acknowledgement accompanied the three backs retreating towards the guest room. 

Abby handed Becker a tea towel.  “I’ll wash, you dry.  We need a strategy for when Connor’s back at work.  He’s still going to be sore.  It’d be horrible if anyone noticed.”

“I’m good at strategy.”

“Why I picked you.  Show me what you can do.” 

The return of Connor Temple, Abby Maitland, Nick Cutter and the rest of their team to the ARC was much less eventful than their exit.  No getting knocked into bodies of water, no stumbling off (or should that be in?) in exhaustion, no being sent home by medical.  Just a normal day at work.  With blessedly zero anomalies.  But quite a bit of fine-tuning for the ADD that kept Connor on his feet the whole afternoon.  Then Lester shooed everyone home right at six to “get some decent sleep while you still can.  I see no reason why I should have to put up with employees falling asleep on every available surface when there’s a simple remedy.  Why are you still here?  Go home and leave me in peace, already.” 

For once, they listened.  James Lester smiled in satisfaction and did not look the gift horse in the mouth.  His orders were being complied with without a fuss, that was the important bit.  He did not need to know why Temple was limping.  James counted himself lucky that everyone under his charge was accounted for and in one piece.  That limp did merit keeping an eye on, though. . .  

 


End file.
